Morning brought rain.

  Not a gentle drizzle, but a proper downpour that turned their campsite into a muddy mess and soaked through their packs within minutes. Rena and Lyris broke camp quickly, pulling on the oilcloth cloaks Corvain had packed—bless that man's thorough preparation—and started walking through weather that seemed determined to make them miserable.

  "At least the rain will hide our tracks," Lyris said, raising her voice over the drumming water. "Harder for anyone to follow us."

  "Silver linings," Rena muttered, water dripping from her hood. "I'm all about silver linings right now."

  I'm bone dry, Flick announced cheerfully from inside Rena's cloak. Perks of being made of light. No physical form means no wet socks.

  "I hate you," Rena said without heat.

  Love you too.

  They walked for hours through the rain, following Lyris's maps toward the main road that would eventually lead to Ashenhearth. According to the princess's calculations, they'd reach a waypoint village by evening—a place called Thornbrook where they could dry off, resupply, and sleep in actual beds.

  The prospect of a roof and a mattress kept Rena moving even as her boots squelched with every step.

  Around midday, the rain lessened to a persistent mist. They stopped under a massive oak to eat a quick lunch—soggy bread and cheese that had somehow stayed dry in Lyris's waterproof pouch—when Flick suddenly went rigid.

  Someone's coming. Fast. From the west.

  Lyris's hand went to her sword. "How many?"

  One. Alone. Moving with purpose but not aggression.

  They waited, tense. Through the mist, a figure materialized—tall, lean, wearing that same light-absorbing leather Rena remembered from the interrogation room. Amber eyes found them unerringly despite the poor visibility.

  Daven Shadowmark stopped twenty feet away, hands visible and empty.

  "Peace," he said, voice carrying easily. "I'm not here to fight or capture. I'm here because you're walking into a trap, and I'd rather not see you die stupidly when you could die heroically later."

  Lyris didn't lower her weapon. "Why should we believe you?"

  "Because I let you leave Solmere. I tracked you to that guest house. Watched you slip out through the service entrance. Could have called for backup, could have stopped you myself." He tilted his head. "But I didn't. Why do you think that is?"

  "You wanted to see where we'd lead you," Rena said, studying him. "Follow us to the fragments instead of trying to take the Codex by force."

  "Partially true. But also..." Daven sighed, seeming to come to a decision. "Because Vex is wrong. About the Codex, about the Void, about everything. And I've spent six years helping her hunt artifacts that should have been left alone."

  "You're saying you've had a crisis of conscience?" Lyris's tone was skeptical. "Convenient timing."

  "Call it what you want. But three days ago, I felt the Codex wake up. Felt its energy signature spreading across the realm. And I remembered something I'd been trying to forget." He pulled back his sleeve, revealing a mark on his forearm—a brand in the shape of the sun-eye symbol from the Codex's cover.

  Rena's breath caught. "You're a Seeker."

  "Was. Seventy years ago." At their shocked expressions, he smiled grimly. "I'm older than I look. Benefits of being bonded to ancient artifacts—they tend to share longevity along with knowledge. I was the third Seeker in the last attempted recovery. The mission failed. My companions died. And I spent the next seven decades trying to forget that failure by helping Vex lock away anything dangerous."

  "What happened?" Rena asked. "Why did it fail?"

  "Because we didn't trust each other. Three Seekers, each with their own agenda, their own secrets. When it mattered most—when we needed to work together to seal the final breach—we couldn't. We hesitated. Second-guessed. And the Voidbringers killed my friends while I ran." The admission came out raw, painful. "I've been running ever since. Different kind of running, but still fleeing."

  Lyris finally lowered her sword slightly. "Why tell us this?"

  "Because you're making the same mistakes we did. No—" He raised a hand as Lyris started to protest. "You trust each other more than we ever did. I can see that. But you're still keeping secrets. Still holding parts of yourself back." His eyes shifted to Lyris. "She knows you're a princess. Does she know about the visions? The prophecies that you've been recording for two years?"

  Lyris stiffened. "How do you—"

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  "I've been tracking you longer than you realize. Read your journals when you weren't looking. You've seen the Void's return in your dreams. Seen cities falling, the sky turning black, reality itself unraveling. But you haven't told your companion the worst parts, have you? Haven't mentioned that in every vision, you die holding back the darkness while others escape."

  Rena turned to Lyris, shock and hurt warring in her chest. "Is that true?"

  Lyris wouldn't meet her eyes. "The visions... they're not set in stone. They're possible futures, not inevitable ones."

  "That's not an answer."

  "Yes. It's true. In every vision where we succeed in sealing the Void, I don't survive. Someone has to hold the breach long enough for the seal to take, and in every future I've seen..." Her voice cracked. "It's me."

  "And you weren't going to tell me this?" Rena felt anger building alongside hurt. "Were you just planning to martyr yourself when the time came? Make that choice for both of us?"

  "I was planning to make sure the mission succeeded," Lyris shot back. "Whether I survived it or not is irrelevant if the alternative is everyone dying."

  "It's not irrelevant to me!"

  Daven cleared his throat. "This. This right here. This is why Seekers fail. Not lack of power. Not insufficient knowledge. But secrets. Lies. Noble intentions hiding selfish fears."

  "I wasn't being selfish—" Lyris started.

  "You were protecting yourself from having to argue about it. From having to face your companion's grief before it was necessary. That's not selfless—that's self-preservation disguised as nobility." Daven stepped closer. "I know because I did the same thing. Kept secrets from my team. Told myself it was for their own good. And when we failed, those secrets were what broke us."

  Silence fell, thick with tension. Rena wanted to be angry, wanted to yell at Lyris for keeping something so huge hidden. But she could also see the fear in her friend's eyes. The desperate hope that maybe, if she didn't speak the future aloud, it wouldn't come true.

  "Okay," Rena said finally. "We're done with secrets. All of them. Right now."

  She pulled out the Codex, opened it to the pages that showed what she'd learned. "The fragment gave me knowledge about Void detection. But it also showed me something else—a way to manipulate the seals. To strengthen them without sacrificing anyone. It's dangerous, requires precision I'm not sure I have, but it's possible. I didn't mention it because I wanted to be certain before giving you false hope."

  Lyris stared. "You found a way? A way where I don't—"

  "Maybe. The Codex isn't specific about success rates. But there's a chance. And I should have told you immediately instead of waiting until I was 'ready.'" Rena looked at Daven. "Your turn. What are you really doing here? What do you want?"

  "To help. To try again. To maybe, this time, not fail everyone counting on me." Daven pulled out a rolled parchment from his coat. "And to warn you about Vex. She's not just hunting the Codex to contain it. She wants to destroy it. She's convinced that any artifact with world-altering power is too dangerous to exist, regardless of intent."

  "Destroy it?" Lyris looked horrified. "But without the Codex, we can't seal the Void. It's the only tool strong enough to—"

  "I know. I've tried telling her. Tried explaining that some dangers can only be fought with dangerous tools. She won't listen. Calls it necessary sacrifice to prevent future catastrophes." He unrolled the parchment—a map marked with multiple locations. "She's mobilized teams across three regions. Not just tracking you. Setting up interception points. Thornbrook village is compromised. She has twenty agents waiting there."

  "Twenty?" Rena's stomach dropped. "We can't fight twenty trained agents."

  "No. But you can avoid them." Daven traced an alternate route on the map. "Swing south, follow the Clearwater River. There's a ford here—" He pointed. "—that'll get you across without using bridges she's watching. From there, you can reach Ashenhearth through the southern approach."

  "Why should we trust this?" Lyris asked, though her tone had shifted from hostile to wary. "You could be leading us into a worse trap."

  "You shouldn't trust me. You should verify." Daven gestured to Rena's Codex. "Ask it. Ask if I'm lying. The book can read intent, can't it? It chose you as Seekers. Let it judge me."

  Rena hesitated, then placed her hand on the Codex. Is he telling the truth? Can we trust him?

  Words appeared on the pages:

  DAVEN SHADOWMARK CARRIES THE MARK OF A FALLEN SEEKER. HIS REGRET IS GENUINE. HIS INTENT IS REDEMPTION. TRUST IS A CHOICE, NOT A CERTAINTY. BUT HIS TRUTH ALIGNS WITH NECESSITY.

  She showed the page to Lyris, who read it and nodded slowly.

  "Okay," the princess said. "We take your route. But you're coming with us. If this is a trap, you're in it too."

  Daven smiled, and it was the first genuine expression Rena had seen from him. "Fair. I'll guide you to Ashenhearth. After that, we figure out the next steps together. Like Seekers should have done seventy years ago."

  This is either brilliant or catastrophically stupid, Flick commented. I'm sixty-forty on brilliant.

  They set off again, now three instead of two, following Daven's alternate route through terrain that grew progressively rougher. The rain had stopped, replaced by heavy clouds that promised more water later.

  As they walked, Daven fell into step beside Rena. "The visions Lyris has," he said quietly. "My second companion had them too. Prophetic sight runs in certain bloodlines. And every vision she had came true, one way or another."

  "That's not encouraging."

  "But here's the thing—the visions show probable outcomes based on current choices. Change the choices, change the outcome." He looked at her. "You found an alternative method in the Codex. That's already a deviation from the path Lyris saw. Keep deviating. Keep making different choices. Force a new future."

  "You really think we can do what your team couldn't?"

  "I think you already are. You trusted each other enough to confront the secrets. That's further than we ever got." He smiled slightly. "Plus, you've got the complete Codex to work toward. We only had fragments. And you've got me, who knows exactly what not to do."

  Ahead, Lyris stopped at a ridge overlooking a valley. In the distance, Rena could see a river cutting through the landscape, exactly where Daven's map had indicated.

  "The Clearwater," Daven confirmed. "We cross at the ford, camp on the far side, then two days' journey to Ashenhearth's boundaries."

  "Into the fire," Lyris said softly.

  "And through it," Rena added, moving to stand beside her friend. "Together. No more secrets. No more running. We face this as a team."

  Lyris looked at her, and something shifted in her expression. Acceptance, maybe. Or trust. "As a team," she agreed. "All three of us."

  "All four," Flick corrected, manifesting on Rena's shoulder. "Sprite's union rules say I get counted too."

  Despite the danger ahead, despite the revelations and confrontations, Rena found herself smiling.

  They had a long way to go. Vex was hunting them. The Void was waiting. And every step forward brought them closer to a confrontation that might demand everything they had.

  But they weren't alone anymore.

  And sometimes, that made all the difference.

  ---