Five months had passed since the ruins of the village. Five months of walking countless miles, following whispers and cold trails that led nowhere.

Emmet’s body had hardened from the journey, his once-untested endurance now forged into steel by endless travel and relentless battles. His serpent, too, had grown stronger, its wounds fully healed and its coiled muscles a constant source of intimidation. Tabitha remained his unyielding shadow, her staff a beacon of power that had saved them more times than he could count.

Yet despite all their efforts, Mila and Theo remained ghosts—always just out of reach.

The trio sat by a campfire on the edge of a desolate plain, the flickering flames casting long shadows against the dying light of dusk. The wind carried a biting chill, whispering through the empty expanse around them.

“We’re chasing nothing,” Tabitha said bluntly, staring into the fire. Her words cut like a blade, though her tone carried no malice. “Every lead has been a dead end. You’re running yourself into the ground.”

Emmet didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the map spread out before him, its surface marked with lines and notes from their travels. His fingers traced over the latest trail—a rumor of a slaver caravan spotted moving north weeks ago.

“I can’t stop,” he said finally, his voice low. “Not until I know.”

Tabitha sighed and leaned back against a rock, her gaze turning to the stars slowly appearing above. “You’re more stubborn than I expected.”

The serpent, coiled nearby, hissed softly as if in agreement.

The conversation ended as it often did—in silence. The fire crackled, the sound oddly soothing despite the weight of their journey. Emmet leaned back, his mind drifting to the faces of his siblings. He could still see them, clear as day. Mila’s fiery defiance. Theo’s quiet, thoughtful gaze.

He had to find them.

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The next day, as they approached a rundown trading outpost at the edge of a salt flat, Emmet felt the familiar sting of disappointment clawing at his chest. Every stop they’d made so far had been the same: false hope and useless information.

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The outpost was barely more than a collection of wooden shacks, its inhabitants a mix of weary traders and desperate wanderers. Emmet kept his hood low as he walked through the settlement, Tabitha and the serpent following closely behind.

Inside the largest shack, a dimly lit tavern, the smell of stale ale and unwashed bodies hung heavy in the air. Conversations buzzed around him, most of them meaningless drivel. But one voice, low and hushed, caught his attention.

“...saw them heading east. A caravan, heavily guarded. Took a group of kids from the villages near the border.”

Emmet froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, he turned to the speaker—a grizzled man hunched over a drink, his face half-hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

“East, you said?” Emmet asked, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

The man glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he took in Emmet’s weathered appearance. “Yeah. Few weeks ago. Heard they were moving toward the Iron Divide. Dangerous territory, though. You’d have to be desperate or crazy to follow.”

“I’ll pay for details,” Emmet said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a handful of coins.

The man’s expression brightened at the sight of the gold. “The caravan’s big. Slavers from the Blackbrand Guild. They’ve been moving between the ruins of Darnak and the Divide for months now. If the kids you’re looking for were taken, they’d be with them.”

Emmet’s grip tightened around the coins, his knuckles white. “How many guards?”

“Dozens. And they’re not just thugs—Blackbrand employs mercenaries and mages. You go after them, you’d best be ready for a fight.”

Emmet nodded, dropping the coins onto the table before turning to leave.

Outside, he found Tabitha waiting, her arms crossed. “You found something,” she said, more a statement than a question.

“They’re heading east,” Emmet replied, his voice grim. “Toward the Iron Divide.”

Tabitha frowned. “If the Blackbrand Guild has them, it won’t be easy to get them back. Their camps are fortified, their forces well-trained.”

“I don’t care,” Emmet said, his gaze hard. “If they have Mila and Theo, I’m going after them.”

Tabitha studied him for a moment before nodding. “Then we’d better prepare.”

As they left the outpost, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the barren land. For the first time in months, Emmet felt a flicker of something other than despair. It wasn’t hope—not yet.

But it was a start.