Pao left Drevos Hollow before the sun came up.
No one stopped him. The Guild didn't hold a ceremony, and no one said goodbye. They just gave him new orders and reassigned him to a small team heading east.
The next breath site was active. The Guild had picked up strange signs near a town called Korr Vale. They wanted someone who could feel the seal react.
That meant Pao.
Because of the mark on his chest.
The team had three members besides him.
Karis was in charge. She was short, lean, and quick with orders. Her Guild coat was reinforced with thin armor and stitched with white healing runes. Pao had seen her type before—trained in both magic and field medicine. She didn't say much outside of mission-related talk.
Tarn was the scout and tracker. He was tall, muscular, and completely silent. Karis told Pao that Tarn had lost his tongue years ago and had no interest in replacements. He used hand signals, watched their surroundings constantly, and carried a massive sword wrapped in black cloth.
Elian, the last member, was the opposite of Tarn. He was thin, twitchy, and talked too much. He was a record keeper and historian—sent by the Guild to document breath site events. He always had a book under his arm and ink on his fingers. He was curious but anxious.
Pao didn't speak much either. Since Erwan's death, he'd stayed quiet.
They traveled for four days.
The first two days passed without incident. They moved through old farmlands and along broken roads. Trees became less common, and the land turned to low hills and cold air.
No birds. No signs of travelers. Just empty land and frozen paths.
By the third day, thin fog started to appear. It wasn't thick, but it lingered longer than usual and didn't seem to move with the wind. At times, it felt like it was following them.
That's when Pao's Lanternmark began to react. At first, it was just warmth across his collarbone. Then it pulsed, matching the rhythm of his steps. He didn't say anything. But Karis noticed.
"It's starting," she said, watching him. "That mark only burns when something is close."
On the third night, they made camp behind an old stone wall. It looked like it had once belonged to a farming property. The land was silent.
No animal sounds. No wind.
Pao couldn't sleep.
He sat away from the others near a dry patch of ground. The mark on his chest wasn't burning, but it felt like pressure—like someone was holding something heavy over his ribs.
That's when the memory came.
FLASHBACK
Pao was younger—maybe ten. It was raining outside a broken shelter. Inside, a small fire burned between him and Solon.
Solon sat nearby, scraping something into a stone plate.
"You're shaking again," Solon said.
"I'm trying," Pao replied.
He was holding a piece of chalk, trying to copy a rune onto the wood floor. But the lines weren't coming out right.
"You're rushing," Solon said, standing. "Show me how you breathe when you cast."
Pao frowned. "I don't think about it."
"That's the problem," Solon said. He stepped behind Pao and placed a hand on his chest. "This mark means you'll cast differently than most. Magic builds faster in you. If you don't control it, it'll overload."
Pao looked confused.
"Magic flows with breath," Solon explained. "Every chant, every rune—it all depends on how you control the air in your lungs. Lose control of that, and the spell won't work right. Or worse—it'll explode in your hand."
Pao nodded, slowly.
Solon tapped his chest once. "Inhale before casting. Hold until the glyph is locked. Exhale during release. Always. That's your bridge."
Present
Pao opened his eyes and took a slow breath.
He looked down at his hand and drew the same glyph from the memory into the dirt. The line didn't shake.
He wiped it away before the others could see.
By the fourth day, they reached the edge of the ravine. Korr Vale was built along a slope with about a dozen buildings and a collapsed shrine at the far end.
The fog here was much heavier. It floated across the town like a blanket and didn't drift—it stayed in place, curling slowly in small circles.
Korr Vale had no smoke from chimneys. No sound. No movement.
But the ground didn't feel dead.
It felt like it was waiting.
They approached the outer buildings carefully.
Tarn motioned them to stop.
He pointed to a set of footprints—barefoot, human-sized, and recent.
The prints led from the well to one of the larger buildings.
Then they vanished.
No sign of retreat. No blood. Just… stopped.
Karis crouched next to the tracks. "Doesn't make sense."
Pao looked at the soil. "They weren't taken. There's no drag."
"They weren't running either," Elian added. "The steps are even."
"So where did they go?" Pao asked.
Karis stood up. "We'll find out. Tarn, sweep left. Elian, stay behind me. Pao, cover our back."
They moved into the town.
Inside the storage building, the floor was dusty and undisturbed—except for a single shelf near the far wall. It had been wiped clean.
Elian pointed. "Somebody was here."
"No footprints," Pao said.
"Maybe they came from underneath."
They checked the floor—solid wood.
No trapdoor.
Just a patch of cold.
Pao touched it. His Lanternmark pulsed again.
They regrouped near the collapsed shrine.
Inside, the statue of a saint had been shattered. The base still stood, but the head was missing, and a bowl meant for offerings had been filled with small, broken teeth.
All human.
Tarn stood in the doorway, unmoving.
Karis scanned the room. "This isn't random. This is ritual work."
"Same structure as Drevos?" Pao asked.
"Worse," she said. "Drevos had layers. This was done in a rush."
Pao stepped near the bowl. His chest grew warmer.
The mark burned.
That night, they made camp inside the largest intact house.
Karis took first watch.
Elian wrote notes by lantern light.
Tarn sharpened his blade.
Pao sat alone by a boarded-up window.
The fog outside hadn't moved.
The air was heavy.
He opened his journal and wrote:
"Arrived at Korr Vale. No confirmed contact. Town appears abandoned, but signs of recent presence. Fog is active—stationary, but unnatural. Lanternmark reacting."
He closed the book.
Outside, something moved in the mist.
Not a person.
Not an animal.
Just a shift.
Like the earth itself was taking a deep breath.