The wind was bitter that morning in the ruins of Hollowcrest.

  Ash still clung to the stones, and the smell of burned parchment lingered in the cracks of what used to be a library. The others had moved on… but Deyna stayed.

  She always stayed behind.

  She knelt in the rubble, brushing away blackened fragments with careful fingers, her mind spinning.

  There it was again. That name.

  Zairon.

  Written in a half-burned letter clutched in her cloak for days now. The ink bled, the page torn. But the name was untouched—preserved, like the flame itself had spared it on purpose.

  Oris watched from a distance.

  He had always trusted Deyna. She was the moral compass of the group—the calm voice when Kael lost his temper, the steady hand when Torren rushed into danger. But lately…

  She was different.

  Quieter. Colder. Avoiding everyone’s eyes.

  And now? She was hiding something.

  “You’re not the only one who can read signs,” Oris murmured, following her silently.

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  That night, Deyna slipped away from camp again. Same pattern. Same hour.

  But this time, Oris followed.

  He found her in the old chapel, sitting by the ruined altar, reading the letter by moonlight.

  He stepped into view.

  “You planning to tell the rest of us what you’re hiding?”

  Deyna stood abruptly, hiding the parchment behind her back.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Does ‘nothing’ usually come with a name like Zairon?”

  Her silence was answer enough.

  “You know who that is,” Oris said, stepping closer. “That’s the name the priest almost said before he died. That’s the name Kael carved in his sleep. That’s the name tied to him—the Masked Man.”

  Deyna clenched her jaw.

  “I don’t know anything for certain.”

  “But you’re not telling us.”

  She turned away.

  “Because I’m not sure I want to.”

  Oris froze.

  “You’re protecting him?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing!” she shouted suddenly, the letter fluttering from her fingers. “I just know he’s not what you all think he is.”

  The truth lay heavy in the air.

  Oris didn’t move.

  “Then you better figure it out soon. Because this war doesn’t wait for anyone’s heart to catch up.”

  He left her there, alone in the broken light.

  Far away, the Masked Man stood atop a scorched cliff, staring out across the forest. He clenched a ring in his fist. Deyna’s ring.

  And behind him, an echo stirred the ashes.

  “She remembers...”

  What’s Deyna Really Hiding?