“What the hell happened?”

Del surged to his feet, his chair scraping harshly against the floor as he moved. He was across the room in an instant, dropping to his knees beside Naomi, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Her small frame lay limp against Elara’s lap, her face pale, her breath shallow.

Without thinking, Del grasped her wrist, his fingers pressing against the delicate skin.

‘What the hell am I even checking for? I wouldn’t know a pulse if it leapt up and bit my arse.’

He clenched his jaw, shaking off the useless thought. She was breathing—he could see that—but it didn’t stop the cold coil of dread tightening in his chest.

Paolo was at his side in a heartbeat, hovering, his voice tight with barely restrained urgency. “I thought you said she would be safe.”

Elara’s usually composed face was drawn, her lips pressed into a thin line. She brushed her fingers lightly over Naomi’s forehead as if grounding her, her voice quiet but shaken. “She should have been.”

The words did nothing to ease the thick, choking tension in the room.

Del’s eyes snapped to her, frustration burning hot beneath his skin. “Then why the hell did she scream like she was being ripped apart?”

Elara exhaled, shaking her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and that in itself was unnerving. “In the astral, it’s only her mind that travels. Nothing should be aware of her—except for another astral being. And those are incredibly rare.”

“Well,” Del bit out, his voice sharp, “it looks like this Night Man can bloody well see astral stuff because he saw her.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Elara hesitated. A flicker of doubt crossed her face—Del could see it. The gears in her mind turning, reassessing, trying to make sense of something that shouldn’t have happened.

“Maybe… maybe not,” she said slowly, though the words lacked confidence. “We won’t know for certain until Naomi wakes up. She isn’t physically harmed—I think she just… fainted. She was terrified, and she rushed her return after a prolonged astral journey.”

Del narrowed his eyes. “And you think that’s all it was?”

Elara’s fingers stroked Naomi’s hair absently, her gaze distant. “It’s possible she imagined him looking at her.”

Del barked out a humourless laugh, the sound harsh and hollow. “Imagined?” His hand tightened into a fist against his knee. “Elara, she screamed. Not a little frightened yelp—she screamed like she was looking into the bloody void.”

Paolo exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “And passed out cold a second later.” He looked at Elara, his tone uncharacteristically grim. “You think she just panicked herself unconscious?”

Elara’s lips parted, but no words came.

The silence stretched too long.

Then, finally, she sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted, the frustration clear in her voice. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Del sat back slightly, his mind racing.

The implications were bad.

Very bad.

If the Night Man had actually seen Naomi—if he had recognised her—what did that mean? Could he track her? Could he follow her back?

His stomach churned at the thought.

Paolo seemed to have followed the same line of thinking. “If he could see her…” He trailed off, rubbing at his jaw. “Can he see us?”

Elara frowned. “That’s not how the astral works.”

Paolo gave her a flat look. “Right. And yet, here we are.”

Another beat of silence.

Del exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think practically. “Alright,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s assume for a second she wasn’t imagining it. What the hell does that mean for us?”

Elara shook her head. “If he’s an astral entity, we shouldn’t be in danger unless we travel the astral ourselves.”

“Yeah?” Del arched a brow. “And what if he’s not?”

That brought another pause.

Paolo’s gaze darkened. “If he’s not just some astral ghost, and he’s got one foot in our world—”

“Then he could be watching us right now,” Del finished grimly.

A chill ran through the room.

Elara shook her head again, firmer this time. “No. No, that’s unlikely. If he were able to manifest here, we’d know.”

Del wasn’t sure he shared that confidence.

Paolo’s lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers twitched where they hovered near his belt, as if resisting the urge to grab his sword.

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"I’m rounding up the militia," he announced, voice taut with tension. "I think we have a visit to the quarry to undertake."

Del clenched his jaw. His instinct screamed at him to act, to move, to do something—but not knowing what they were walking into put a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Gather your troops, Paolo," he said, keeping his voice even. "But hold off until we hear what she has to say."

Paolo hesitated for a fraction of a second. Del saw it—saw the way his hands curled into loose fists, saw the flicker of something calculating behind his eyes. A fight between immediate action and necessary patience.

Then, with a short, sharp nod, he relented. "Aye. But not for long."

He turned on his heel and strode out, boots thudding harder against the wooden floor than necessary.

The door swung shut behind him, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

Del exhaled, forcing his shoulders to loosen as he turned back to Elara. “Do you know what happened?” His voice had lost its earlier edge, though the knot of tension remained buried deep in his chest.

Elara shook her head, guilt etched into the delicate lines of her face. “No. And I feel terrible that it went like this. I just hope…” She trailed off, her gaze flickering to Naomi’s small, limp form. “I hope it doesn’t have a lasting effect on her ability. Dreamwalkers are rare.”

Del’s stomach twisted.

Forget her talent, she’s just a kid.

He pushed the thought aside, his voice gentler now. “She’ll be okay.” The reassurance sounded firmer than he felt. The truth was, he blamed himself as much as he blamed the Night Man.

I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

His fingers raked through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a futile attempt to shake off the weight pressing down on him.

‘But she did it, didn’t she? We know where they are.’

It was a bitter consolation, a justification that felt thin and hollow.

Elara settled into the chair beside Naomi, and Del followed suit, their conversation slipping into quieter tones as they pieced through what had happened, sharing their thoughts, questioning what they knew.

“The way her mana surged…” Elara said, glancing at the girl. “It was so much faster than mine ever was.”

Del frowned. “What do you mean?”

Elara’s fingers traced idle patterns on the wooden armrest. “Most elves don’t unlock any magical potential until at least their late teens. In my case, I was twenty-three. But Naomi is so young… if her abilities are this strong already, it could mean significant power ahead.” A pause. “Or an early burnout.”

Del studied Naomi’s peaceful face, her breath slow and steady. She looked so small, so impossibly fragile, curled into herself like this.

And he had no bloody idea what it all meant.

Elara’s frown deepened, her fingers tapping absently against the armrest. “Once her mana broke through, it just surged,” she murmured, shaking her head. “There was nothing gentle about it. It was almost violent in how it grew, and that scared me a bit.”

Del studied her face, the flickers of unease plain in her eyes.

“She needs a proper trainer.” Elara’s gaze met his directly, the weight behind her words pressing down like lead. “Even more than I do. And a lot faster, or she may harm herself with uncontrolled mana feedback.”

Del shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “I take it that’s not a good thing.”

‘Stop stating the bloody obvious, you twat.’

Elara’s mouth twitched—not quite amusement, more like weary exasperation. “No. Definitely not.” She exhaled, her arms crossing as if bracing herself. “I’ve never seen it happen, but from what I’ve read, at its worst, it can leave someone’s mind completely scrambled.”

Del sucked in a slow breath through his teeth. That wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

“So does that mean she needs to stop doing this until she gets training?” He reached out instinctively, resting his hands over Naomi’s small ones where they lay atop Elara’s lap.

“No,” Elara answered, glancing at him again. “If anything, the opposite. The more she practices, the better control she’ll have over her mana. But until she gets trained, the risk is always going to be there.”

Del hated that. The idea of a child—this child—walking a knife’s edge with something so dangerous didn’t sit right with him. But what choice did they have? It wasn’t as if they could put her back in a box and pretend none of this had happened.

The room fell into silence again, thick with waiting.

Del exhaled slowly, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Naomi’s chest.

The quiet stretched on. Too long.

Then—

A twitch. A tiny flicker of lashes.

Del stiffened. His heart gave an uncomfortable jolt.

Her fingers twitched, curled slightly—like grasping for something unseen.

Then, with a sharp, gasping inhale, she bolted upright.

Her eyes were wide, wild, darting around the room as though searching for something she had lost.

Del barely had time to react before she turned and collapsed into Elara, her small frame trembling violently against her.

Elara wrapped her arms around her, murmuring soft reassurances into her hair.

Naomi’s breathing was ragged, uneven.

Then, after a long, shuddering exhale, she finally spoke.

"He saw me."

The words were quiet.

But the weight behind them was deafening.

A chill ran down Del’s spine, but he kept his face steady. “Tell us everything,” he said, keeping his tone as gentle as his naturally gruff voice would allow.

‘In the beginning, there was a big flash, and stars rushed out…’

‘Shut the fuck up, Del.’

Naomi nodded, pulling herself together with a small, determined shift of her shoulders.

“I was going down the tunnel—the one at the bottom of the big hole in the ground,” she confirmed, her voice steady despite the weight of what she was saying. “It was spooky, but I wasn’t scared. Not like Nate when he got locked in the feed shed.” She nodded to herself, reinforcing her own bravery.

Del bit back the urge to tell her to get on with it. She needed to tell this in her own way, at her own pace.

‘It’s her story, her trauma. Let her tell it.’

“So,” Naomi continued, settling in more comfortably, "There were lights ahead," she continued, voice soft, eyes distant. "Flickering like reed torches, but they weren’t steady. The whole place felt... thick. Like the air wasn’t moving right."

She shifted, fidgeting as though she could still feel it.

"I heard crying," Naomi added, "but it was… weird. Like someone trying to hide it. Like when someone covers their mouth so nobody hears." She hesitated, then pressed on.

“I looked around the corner. There was a big room, with pillars and stuff. A fire in the middle, making everything all smoky and hazy. I saw Emily—she was crying. And Vita…” Her voice wavered. “Vita was lying down. I think she was asleep or something.”

A sharp breath. A barely-there quiver of her lip. She shuddered, her hands gripping Elara’s arm tighter.

Del clenched his jaw.

"Then I felt it."

The room was deathly still as Del and Elara took in her words.

"Something was looking at me. I didn’t see it at first, but I knew."

Del exhaled slowly, the hair on his arms standing on end.

"I turned around…" Her voice wavered. "And he was there. The Night Man. And he was coming right at me."

Her voice rose in pitch, panic creeping back into the edges of her words.

Del could almost see it—the towering shadow bearing down on her, the terror of being seen by something that shouldn’t have been able to see her.

“I clapped my hands, and the next thing I knew, I was back here with all of you.” Her breathing was uneven, like she was only just realising what had happened. Her eyes flickered around the room, searching.

“Where’s the elder?” she asked, confused. “I thought he was staying while I looked for Vita.”

Elara and Del exchanged glances.

She didn’t remember collapsing. Didn’t remember the sheer terror of her scream or the way she had passed out the moment she’d returned.

Del exhaled slowly, his gut coiling with unease.

They had their answer.

Now, they had to decide what the hell to do with it.