Selene walked alongside Donatello and Michelangelo, the River Lurkers, feeling the weight of the lies she had just told them. Their low voices, like a quiet rumble, echoed in her ears, but her mind was elsewhere, lost in the tumultuous thoughts of what she had just done. The wagon carrying Paola, Poca, and the boy had disappeared down the road, and now she was here, trying to lead these two dangerous allies away from them, all while grappling with the realization of just how far she had fallen.

The River Lurkers kept glancing back in the direction the wagon had taken, their eyes sharp and alert. They didn’t fully trust her story—she could tell from the way their eyes narrowed, the way their hands never strayed too far from their weapons. They were on guard, ready for anything, and that made Selene’s heart race even more.

She had it all, once. Power, influence, a path to the top that she had clawed her way onto through sheer determination and a willingness to do whatever it took. And now… now she had nothing. Nothing but the slim hope that she could at least make something right, that she could protect Paola and Poca, even if just for a little while.

As they walked, Selene couldn’t shake the image of Paola from her mind. Paola, who had died—Selene had seen her die—and yet, she was alive. A fallen star, a rarity, a cursed existence. Selene knew the stories, the legends. No fallen star ever lived long. They became legends, martyrs, symbols of something greater than themselves, but they never lived to see their own legacy. And now Paola, who had shown her nothing but kindness, who had seen through her facade and still chose to help her, was on that path. A path that Selene knew all too well.

Finally, Donatello broke the tense silence. "What happened to you in the storm, Selene?" he asked, his voice a low growl but tinged with curiosity.

Selene’s mind snapped back to the present. She had to be careful here. "I got separated," she said, her voice steady. "Ended up finding those farmers in a cave after I fought off some beasts. They were heading to Emberfall, and they took me along."

She added a pause, then said, "Reluctantly," as if remembering an unpleasant detail. "They were scared of me, being a demon and all. Like everyone else."

Michelangelo chuckled, a sound that was more like a deep rumble. "Can’t blame them. They’ve probably never seen a non-hostile River Lurker before, either, right? Our two races haven’t exactly been on speaking terms. Literally, until us."

Selene blinked, momentarily thrown off by the casual reminder. She had almost forgotten about that. River Lurkers were feared and hated just as much as demons, if not more. Their existence had been one of conflict, predation, and violence for centuries. And yet, here she was, walking side by side with them. It was a strange, surreal situation—one that she had never fully processed until now.

She nodded, trying to keep her thoughts focused. But Michelangelo wasn’t done. He continued speaking, his tone still playful, but with an edge that made Selene uneasy.

"It’s odd," Mike said, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at Selene. "How you just jumped out of that wagon. Almost like you were in a rush to talk to us. And then you whispered something to them before we got close, and they just… went on their way. Didn’t even look back. That’s unusual, isn’t it?"

Selene’s heart skipped a beat. Mike’s words were laced with insinuation, almost too casual to be an accusation, yet the suspicion was there. He was probing, testing her, and she could feel the pressure building.

"They’re just farmers," she repeated, her voice firm but not too defensive. "They didn’t want any trouble. I told them you were friends, that you wouldn’t harm them."

Mike stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His demeanor was still casual, but his eyes—those reptilian, calculating eyes—were locked onto hers. Donatello, ever the silent observer, stood nearby, his grip tightening slightly on his spear as he watched the exchange.

"And they just believed that?" Mike asked, his voice still light, but with a dangerous undertone. "Didn’t even question why a demon like you would be with two River Lurkers? A bit too trusting, don’t you think?"

Selene knew she had to tread carefully. "I didn’t give them a choice," she said, trying to maintain an air of confidence. "I told them what they needed to hear. They were scared—people like them don’t question things when they’re scared."

Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly, the playful facade slipping just a bit. "But you’re not scared, are you, Selene? You’re smart. You know how to play the game."

There it was—the real accusation, hidden beneath layers of casual conversation and half-smiles. Mike was onto her. He might not know exactly what she was hiding, but he knew there was something more to this story.

Selene held his gaze, refusing to back down. "I did what I had to do to keep things calm," she said, her voice steady. "We’re all after the same thing, aren’t we? The Fallen Star. If they had nothing to do with it, why waste time on them?"

Mike studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Selene could feel the tension in the air, the weight of the truth she was trying so desperately to hide. Donatello remained silent, his eyes flicking between Selene and Mike, waiting for the outcome of this verbal sparring.

Finally, Mike nodded, as if coming to a decision. "Alright, Selene," he said, his voice returning to its earlier lightness. "You’re right. No point wasting time on them."

But Selene could sense the shift. Mike wasn’t letting go as easily as he made it seem. His casual demeanor, the lightness in his voice—those were just masks for something deeper. He leaned on his staff with an air of nonchalance, his reptilian eyes half-lidded as he casually pressed her further.

"You know," Mike began, his tone still conversational, "it’s funny how you found Donny and me after we got separated. And even funnier that right when we planned on approaching, you were getting close to those folks in the cart. Now, I ain’t the suspicious type," he chuckled, "but I couldn’t help but notice you seemed awfully comfortable with them, even though you said you barely knew them."

Selene tensed, her mind racing. She could feel his words cutting closer to the truth, and she knew where he was heading with this. His playfulness was a tactic—one she’d seen him use before. He was testing her, digging deeper while pretending not to care.

Mike shifted his weight, leaning on his staff as though he were just chatting with an old friend. "And here's the kicker," he said, grinning wide, "we’re just wanderin’ in some random direction, but it ain’t the same direction as the cart. If we’re all headin’ to Emberfall, why aren’t we followin’ them? Why not ask for a ride? Save us all the trouble of walkin’, yeah?"

His eyes glinted in the dimming sunlight, and Selene knew she was cornered. He was onto her. She had underestimated him, thinking his easygoing attitude meant he was simple. But Mike was far from that—he was sharp, observant, and cunning.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could form a coherent thought, Donatello moved. His attack was sudden, a blur of green and muscle as his spear lunged forward, aiming straight for her chest. Selene barely had time to react. She twisted to the side, the spear’s tip grazing her ribs, cutting through her cloak and nicking her skin. Pain flared, but she forced herself to stay focused.

Donatello was relentless, his next strike already coming in low, aiming to sweep her legs out from under her. Selene jumped back, narrowly avoiding the spear's haft as it passed beneath her feet. Her eyes darted to Mike, who still leaned on his staff with that same infuriating grin, watching the fight with casual interest.

Selene knew she had to act fast. Donny was stronger, faster, and more resilient than her. The River Lurkers were a species designed for combat, with natural strength and agility far beyond anything she could match physically. She had to rely on her abilities—her void-enhanced arm, her speed, and her magic.

As Donny advanced again, Selene activated Void Fist. Her mithralite arm crackled with dark energy as she brought it up, catching Donny’s spear mid-thrust. The void energy surged through the metal, disrupting the force of the attack and sending shockwaves through the weapon. Donny snarled, surprised by the power behind her arm, but he didn’t relent.

He twisted the spear in her grip, forcing her to release it, and spun around to deliver a powerful kick to her midsection. Selene staggered back, the wind knocked out of her. She barely had time to recover before Donny was on her again, his spear coming down in a wide arc aimed at her head.

Shadow Step.

Selene phased into the void, her body flickering out of existence for a split second as the spear passed through the space she had just occupied. She reappeared behind Donny, her mithralite arm glowing with void energy as she struck at his back with Abyssal Crush. The force of the blow sent him stumbling forward, but he quickly regained his footing, spinning around with a growl.

"Nice trick," Donny snarled, "but it won’t save you."

Selene gritted her teeth. He was right—she couldn’t keep relying on her abilities to dodge his attacks. She needed to end this quickly. She darted forward, aiming to close the distance between them and land another void-enhanced punch, but Donny was faster. He sidestepped her attack and brought his spear up in a sweeping motion, catching her under the chin and sending her sprawling to the ground.

Her vision blurred for a moment, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She rolled to the side just in time to avoid Donny’s spear slamming into the ground where her head had been. She pushed herself to her feet, her breathing ragged as she tried to shake off the daze.

Mike’s laughter echoed in her ears. "C’mon, Selene," he called out, his voice dripping with amusement. "You can do better than that."

Selene’s anger flared, and she channeled that rage into her void energy. She could feel the power coursing through her, filling her limbs with strength. She needed to focus—to outthink them, not outfight them.

Donny lunged at her again, and this time Selene was ready. She ducked under his spear and grabbed his arm, using Shadow Grapple to twist him around and throw him off balance. As he stumbled, she brought her void-enhanced fist down on his leg with all her strength.

Crack.

The sound of Donny’s leg breaking was sickening, and he let out a roar of pain as he collapsed to the ground. But Selene didn’t have time to savor the victory—Mike was already moving.

He was on her in an instant, his three-section staff whirling through the air with deadly precision. Selene barely managed to block the first strike with her arm, but the impact sent a jolt of pain through her body. Mike followed up with a flurry of rapid strikes, his staff moving too fast for her to counter. Each blow landed with bone-crushing force, and Selene could feel her remaining good arm weakening under the onslaught.

Mike’s staff connected with the side of her head, and she felt the sharp crack as it split her skin, blood trickling down her face. Her vision swam, but she forced herself to stay on her feet. She couldn’t afford to go down now—not when she was so close.

Mike grinned at her, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You’ve still got some fight in you," he said, almost admiringly. "Good. Let’s see how long you can last."

Selene’s mind raced. She needed to end this now, before Mike overwhelmed her completely. She activated Eclipse Barrier, a shield of void energy forming around her just as Mike’s staff came crashing down. The barrier absorbed the impact, and for a moment, she had a brief respite.

But the barrier wouldn’t hold for long.

Selene poured what remained of her energy into her arm, enhancing her strength with Void Resonance. She knew she couldn’t match Mike in skill or raw power, but she had one advantage he didn’t—magic.

As Mike prepared to strike again, Selene deactivated her barrier and stepped forward, letting her void energy surge through her body. She ducked under his swing and brought her void-enhanced arm up in a powerful uppercut, aiming for his jaw.

The punch connected, and Mike staggered back, momentarily stunned. It wasn’t enough to knock him out, but it gave Selene the opening she needed. She followed up with a quick series of strikes, her fists moving faster than he could block. Each punch was fueled by her void energy, bypassing his defenses and leaving him vulnerable.

But Mike wasn’t done yet. He swung his staff in a wide arc, catching her in the ribs and sending her crashing to the ground. The pain was overwhelming, and Selene gasped for breath, her vision blurring again.

Mike loomed over her, his staff raised for the final blow. "Sorry, Selene," he said, his voice low and almost regretful. "This is where it ends."

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But just as he brought the staff down, Selene activated Phantom Strike. Her arm phased into the void, allowing her to reach through the staff and grab Mike’s wrist. She twisted with all her strength, forcing him to drop the weapon, and then delivered a final, void-enhanced punch to his chest.

There was a sickening crunch in his chest, and Mike stumbled back, gasping for breath. His eyes widened, and Selene could see the shock, the realization of what had happened.

She had broken his ribcage.

Mike collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. He was still conscious, but barely. Selene stood over him, bloodied and exhausted, her body trembling with the effort it had taken to survive the fight.

Donatello lay nearby, clutching his broken leg and groaning in pain. Selene glanced between the two of them, her mind racing as she considered her options. She had won, but just barely. And she knew that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

Breathing heavily, she wiped the blood from her face and looked down at Mike. "I’m not your enemy," she said quietly, her voice hoarse. "But if you keep coming after me, I will be."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the River Lurkers behind. She had to get back to Paola and Poca. Time was running out, and she couldn’t afford to waste any more of it.

***

The morning sun was slowly rising, casting its warm glow over the horizon as Ayla helped Thrix to his feet. His legs still wobbled under him, his body weakened despite the miracle potion’s incredible power. But he managed to stand, leaning on her for support. His eyes, half of them at least, were alert now, scanning the landscape as they started their slow, methodical trek toward the town they could now see in the distance.

The buildings that surrounded them were crumbling, remnants of a part of Emberfall that had long been abandoned. Ayla had found them the night before, using one of the more intact structures as a shelter. Now, in the light of dawn, the dilapidation was even more apparent—the roofs caved in, walls crumbling, and sand filling every crevice. These were the outskirts, forgotten and reclaimed by the desert winds, but beyond them lay the true heart of Emberfall.

As they trudged forward, Ayla glanced over at Thrix. He looked worse for wear, his missing limbs and battered exoskeleton a constant reminder of just how close he had come to death. But his mustache remained as perfectly curled as ever, a bizarre contrast to the rest of his ragged appearance. She admired his resilience, even if it was tinged with a certain air of recklessness.

Thrix caught her glance and gave a weak smile. “You know,” he said, his voice hoarse but trying to sound casual, “I didn’t think I’d ever see a sunrise again.”

Ayla nodded, helping him over a patch of uneven ground. “You and me both.”

They continued in silence for a few more minutes, their steps slow and deliberate as they navigated the broken terrain of the abandoned outskirts. Ayla could feel the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. They had both been through so much, and though they had survived, neither of them knew what lay ahead.

The true town of Emberfall appeared just beyond the ruins, its buildings bathed in the soft golden light of morning. The contrast was stark—where the ruins were decayed and lifeless, the town was vibrant, alive with the gentle bustle of early morning activity. Traders were setting up their stalls in the market district, and the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat wafted through the air.

“Looks like we’ve made it,” Ayla said softly, her eyes scanning the town.

Thrix nodded, his eyes focused on the distant buildings. “Closer than I thought we’d be,” he muttered. “I didn’t realize I’d run us straight to Emberfall’s doorstep.”

Ayla smirked. “Lucky for us, you didn’t run us straight into the river.”

He chuckled, though it came out as more of a pained wheeze. “That would have been unfortunate. Though I’ve always been fond of a good swim.”

As they neared the edge of the town, Ayla turned her gaze toward the buildings that loomed ahead. The architecture was different here—a blend of desert-style adobe and coastal stone and wood, the hallmark of Emberfall’s unique position at the crossroads of two provinces. It was beautiful in its own way, and for a moment, Ayla felt a sense of peace. This place, at least, seemed far removed from the chaos of the Beaststorm and the dangers of Valarian.

“So,” Thrix said, his voice breaking the silence, “where do we go from here?”

Ayla glanced over at him. “There’s the market district, but I think we both know that’s not where we should start. If we want to lie low for a bit and figure out our next move, the tavern might be the best bet. The Ember Forge, I think it’s called.”

Thrix nodded, his eyes scanning the town ahead. “A tavern… sounds about right. We could use a drink after all of this.”

Ayla chuckled softly. “You think? I thought maybe you’d want to find a quiet corner and rest, but I guess a drink sounds good too.”

Thrix managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Rest can come later. Right now, I think I could use a bit of normalcy, even if it’s just sitting in a tavern surrounded by noise.”

As they continued walking, their conversation ebbed and flowed. The silence between them was no longer strained, but more a natural lull as they processed everything they had been through.

“You ever been to Emberfall before?” Ayla asked, her tone casual.

“Once or twice,” Thrix replied. “It’s a good place for trade—right on the border of two provinces, so you get a nice mix of goods from both sides. The market’s always bustling, lots of opportunity if you know where to look.”

Ayla nodded, glancing at the buildings as they passed. “It’s strange… It’s not what I expected. It’s like the desert and the coast are fighting for control of the town, but instead of one winning, they’ve just… blended together.”

Thrix’s eyes flickered with amusement. “That’s Emberfall for you. A little bit of everything, but nothing that quite fits. It’s why people like me do so well here. You can sell just about anything because people here are used to everything.”

As they passed more of the abandoned buildings, Ayla noticed a subtle change in the air. The scents of the market were stronger now, mingling with the smell of the river nearby. She could hear the distant sound of traders calling out to passersby, and the low hum of conversation floated through the air.

“You think anyone in town will recognize you?” Ayla asked, glancing at Thrix out of the corner of her eye.

Thrix let out a soft snort. “Maybe. But the bounty hunters Marcelline sent after me weren’t exactly subtle. If anyone here knows about the bounty, I’ll hear about it soon enough.”

Ayla frowned. “You think Marcelline sent bounty hunters *and* assassins?”

Thrix shrugged, though the movement looked painful. “She’s a thorough woman. And I imagine I’ve made quite a few enemies over the years. Marcelline just happens to be the most recent one.”

They fell silent again as they walked, their steps carrying them closer to the heart of Emberfall. The town square opened up before them, and Ayla found herself momentarily stunned by the sight. A large fountain dominated the center of the square, its water glistening in the early morning light. Around the fountain, traders were setting up their stalls, and townsfolk bustled about, preparing for the day ahead.

For a moment, the scene was almost peaceful. It was easy to forget about the chaos they had just escaped, easy to believe that they had found some kind of sanctuary.

“There’s the tavern,” Thrix said, nodding toward a large building near the square. The sign above the door depicted a glowing ember in the forge of an anvil, and the faint sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out into the street.

“The Ember Forge,” Ayla said, reading the sign aloud. “Let’s hope the drinks are as strong as the reputation.”

Thrix chuckled softly. “I could use something stronger than what’s on offer, but I suppose it’ll do.”

They made their way to the tavern, Ayla keeping a close eye on Thrix’s movements. He was still unsteady on his feet, but he was managing better than she had expected. As they approached the entrance, Ayla hesitated for a moment, glancing around the square.

“You think we’ll be safe here?” she asked quietly.

Thrix gave her a sidelong glance, his mandibles clicking thoughtfully. “Safe is a relative term. But for now? I think we’ll be as safe here as we can be anywhere.”

Ayla nodded, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “Alright. Let’s get inside.”

They pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Ember Forge and stepped into the dimly lit interior. The tavern was bustling with activity, even at this early hour. The clatter of mugs and plates filled the air, and the warm scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread made Ayla’s stomach rumble.

They found a corner table, away from the main crowd, and settled in. Thrix leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, his eyes scanning the room as if waiting for someone to notice him.

Ayla flagged down a barmaid and ordered two drinks, her eyes never straying far from Thrix. She could sense his weariness, his pain, even though he tried to mask it with his usual bravado. She wasn’t sure what their next move should be, but for now, at least, they were safe.

The barmaid returned with their drinks, and Ayla took a long sip of the strong ale, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. Thrix did the same, though he seemed more interested in the surroundings than the drink.

“You really think we’ll be safe here?” Ayla asked again, her voice low.

Thrix shrugged. “As safe as anywhere else. But here, at least, I can keep my ears open. People talk in taverns. You’d be surprised what you can learn just by listening.”

Ayla raised an eyebrow. “And what are you hoping to learn?”

Thrix smiled faintly. “Anything that might keep us alive a little longer.”

They sat in silence for a while, both of them nursing their drinks as they watched the tavern fill with more patrons. The atmosphere was lively, the kind of place where people came to unwind and forget their troubles, at least for a little while.

But Ayla couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still lurking just beyond their reach. The storm might have passed, but its effects were far from over. They had escaped, but they were still on the run, entangled in the web of whatever plan Lady Marcelline had set in motion.

Ayla leaned back in her chair, staring into her mug but not really seeing it. Her mind raced, cycling through everything that had happened. Lady Marcelline, the woman who had practically raised her, who had been her mentor, her protector, had also been the architect of this madness. Marcelline’s machinations were always complex, shadowy, and efficient, but now… this was different. This mission felt like a gamble, one with devastating stakes.

Ayla had always known Marcelline played the long game, orchestrating events with precision. But this—sending them out with barely enough resources to survive, knowing the dangers they would face—it felt crueler, more dangerous than anything before. Was Marcelline really willing to let them die for this? To sacrifice them for a fallen star and whatever power it held?

Ayla’s chest tightened at the thought. She had grown up under Marcelline’s wing, idolizing her. The woman had shaped her into who she was—strong, capable, ready to face any threat. But this? This felt like betrayal. Ayla had followed Marcelline’s orders without question for years, trusting that there was always a greater plan, a reason for everything. Now she wasn’t so sure.

And yet, despite everything, Ayla couldn’t bring herself to fully hate Marcelline. She couldn’t shake the memories of the woman who had cared for her, the woman who had taught her to fight, to survive, to navigate a world filled with danger and deception. There was still that part of Ayla, deep down, that saw Marcelline as a mother, despite the growing doubt gnawing at her mind.

Ayla sighed heavily, staring down at the worn wood of the tavern table. She was in Emberfall, a place that felt strangely disconnected from the chaos they had just escaped. But there was no peace in her heart. She needed to find Paola. Ta’huka too, if he was still alive. The morning was fresh, the air still cool with the remnants of the night, but her mind was heavy with the weight of everything that had yet to be done.

Paola… She couldn’t stop thinking about her. Ayla felt a pang in her chest every time Paola’s face crossed her mind—her dark, star-filled eyes, her quiet strength, her playful innocence that had managed to survive even in the face of such danger. Paola had become her anchor in a world that was constantly shifting beneath her feet. Losing her was not an option.

Ayla’s foot tapped restlessly against the floor. She didn’t understand the ways of espionage or political maneuvering like Thrix did. His mind worked in ways that hers never could—constantly thinking two steps ahead, navigating a maze of secrets and alliances. She had always relied on her instincts and her sword. But now, she found herself tangled in a world of hidden agendas and veiled threats, and she hated it.

She glanced over at Thrix, who seemed more at ease now, even in his weakened state. He was sipping his drink slowly, his eyes darting around the room, watching and listening, as if gathering bits of information without even trying. He knew this was the place to gather intel, to listen for the whispers of what lay ahead. But Ayla… she simply wanted to get to Paola. She needed to know that she was safe, that they could figure this out together.

She hoped, irrationally, that Paola would be here in Emberfall, that by some stroke of luck, they would reunite in this small town. But Ayla knew the chances were slim. Paola could be anywhere, lost in the aftermath of the storm, or worse… Ayla shook her head, refusing to entertain that thought. She couldn’t afford to think like that. Not now.

So, she sat. She waited. The tavern buzzed with life around her, the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation filling the air, but Ayla’s mind was far away. Her thoughts kept circling back to Marcelline, unable to escape the weight of it all. She had been so close to Marcelline, had trusted her like no one else. But now she was beginning to see the cracks in that trust. Had Marcelline known what they would face out here? Had she sent them into the storm with full knowledge of the dangers, fully willing to let them die if it served her purpose?

Ayla’s fingers curled around the edge of the table. She wanted to believe that Marcelline had a plan, that there was a reason for all of this. But with each passing moment, that belief was slipping away. What if this was where it ended? What if Marcelline had orchestrated this entire mission, knowing it would lead to their deaths? Was this where Paola was meant to die? Where she herself was meant to die?

The thought chilled her. She had faced death before, but this felt different. This felt like a betrayal, like she had been used. And the uncertainty of it all was enough to drive her mad.

“Are you alright?” Thrix’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

Ayla blinked and looked up at him. He was watching her with a concerned expression, his eyes—what was left of them—studying her closely.

“Yeah,” she lied, her voice rough. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

Thrix nodded slowly, taking another sip of his drink. “I can see that. You’ve been staring at the same spot for the past five minutes. Care to share what’s on your mind?”

Ayla hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But Thrix had always been sharp. He had probably already guessed most of what she was thinking anyway.

“I’m just… trying to make sense of all this,” she said finally. “Marcelline, the mission, why we were sent out here with barely any support… It doesn’t add up.”

Thrix nodded again, his expression thoughtful. “Marcelline always has her reasons. But that doesn’t mean those reasons are good for everyone involved.”

Ayla’s jaw tightened. “Do you think she knew? That we were walking into something like this?”

Thrix was quiet for a moment, his mandibles clicking softly as he considered her question. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But Marcelline… she doesn’t do anything without weighing the risks. She’s always three steps ahead, always thinking about how things will play out in the long run. If she sent you out here, there’s a reason. Whether that reason is worth your life, well… that’s another question.”

Ayla felt a surge of frustration. “I don’t care about her reasons,” she said, her voice low and tense. “I care about finding Paola. And Ta’huka, if he’s still alive. I need to know that they’re safe.”

Thrix looked at her, his gaze softening slightly. “I understand. But we’re in Emberfall now. This town might be small, but it’s a hub for information. If they’re anywhere near, we’ll hear about it. We just need to be patient.”

“Patience isn’t exactly my strong suit,” Ayla muttered.

Thrix chuckled softly. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”

Ayla leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her short shoulder-length hair. She was exhausted, her body still battered and bruised from their fight with the River Lurkers, and her mind was weary from the constant battle between logic and instinct. She wanted to trust Marcelline, to believe that she had a reason for everything, but she couldn’t deny the creeping doubt in the back of her mind.

If they survived this, what would she say to Marcelline? Would she ever be able to trust her again? Or was this a turning point, a shift in the foundation of their relationship? Ayla didn’t know. All she knew was that the storm was over, but the chaos had only just begun.