Three Days Earlier. The Forest.
Mirena moved through the trees like a ghost.
She'd learned silence years ago, in places she didn't talk about. The skill served her now—feet finding soft ground, body slipping between branches without sound, breath controlled and steady.
Grog's trail was easy to follow.
Not because he was careless. Because he wasn't hiding. His tracks led north, then east, then north again. Purposeful. Direct. Like he knew exactly where he was going.
He's following the old timeline, she thought. Going to places only he remembers.
She'd followed for hours before realizing what she was doing.
Why?
The question nagged at her. She wasn't impulsive. Didn't chase after people without reason. Yet here she was, alone in the deep forest, tracking a man who'd made it clear he wanted to go alone.
Because he's carrying too much, the answer came. Because someone needs to watch his back. Because if he dies out here, we all lose.
She pushed on.
---
The first night, she camped without fire.
Too risky. Grog was somewhere ahead—she didn't want him circling back, didn't want to explain herself before she understood why she'd come. She ate cold rations. Drank melted snow. Listened to the forest breathe.
It breathed differently here.
Deeper. Older. Like the trees themselves were watching.
She'd felt it before, near the Grove. The sense of being observed by something that didn't need eyes. It was stronger now. Closer.
The hunters, she thought. They're everywhere out here.
She didn't sleep well.
---
Second day, she found signs of passage.
Not Grog's—older. Much older. Carvings on trees, worn smooth by time. Symbols she recognized from her research. The same angular marks that appeared in the oldest texts, the ones no one could fully translate.
She stopped to study them.
Warning, she translated roughly. Door. Wait.
The same words, repeated on a dozen trees. A perimeter. A boundary.
She was entering marked territory.
Grog's tracks continued past the carvings without hesitation. He'd known they were here. Walked right through.
Mirena hesitated.
If I go past this, I'm committing. No turning back.
She went past.
---
The forest changed after the boundary.
Not gradually—abruptly, like stepping through a door. The air grew colder. The light dimmed, even though the sky was clear. Sounds muted, then stopped altogether.
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence.
Mirena stood still, listening to nothing.
No birds. No wind. No creak of branches. Just the pounding of her own heart, suddenly too loud.
This is a hunting ground, she realized. Not for animals. For something else.
She should turn back. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back.
But Grog's tracks continued forward.
She followed.
---
She found him at dusk.
He'd made camp in a small clearing—a real camp, with fire and blankets and the ordinary signs of a soldier resting. He sat with his back to a tree, axe across his knees, watching her approach like he'd been expecting her.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"I know."
"Then why?"
Mirena sat across from him. Not close—the fire between them. Safe distance.
"Because you're walking into something alone. Because if you die, we lose everything." She met his eyes. "Because someone needs to make sure you come back."
Grog was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "You followed me through the boundary."
"Yes."
"You saw the carvings."
"Yes."
"And you kept going."
"Yes."
Something shifted in his face. Respect? Gratitude? Hard to tell.
"You're braver than I thought," he said.
"Or stupider."
"Both, probably."
They sat in silence as the fire crackled between them.
---
Later, after the fire had burned low, Grog spoke.
"There's a village. North of here. Three more days." He stared into the flames. "In the old timeline, it burned. Everyone inside. I couldn't save them."
Mirena listened.
"Now I can warn them. Help them prepare. Maybe—" He paused. "Maybe change things."
"And after that?"
"Other villages. Other places. I have a list." He looked at her. "Dozens of them. Places that fell because no one knew what was coming."
Mirena absorbed this.
"That's why you left. Not just one village—all of them."
"Yes."
"You can't save everyone."
"No. But maybe I can save some." His voice was quiet. "That's better than saving none."
Mirena nodded slowly.
"I'll come with you."
"No."
"I'm already here."
"And you should go back." Grog's voice was firm. "The column needs you. Aldric needs you. Your research—"
"Can wait."
"Mirena—"
"I'm not leaving." Her voice was equally firm. "You're not doing this alone."
They stared at each other across the fire.
Grog's jaw tightened. For a moment, she thought he'd argue. Force her to leave. Pick up his axe and walk away into the darkness.
Instead, he sighed.
"Stubborn," he muttered.
"Learned from the best."
He almost smiled. Almost.
They settled into uneasy silence.
---
The next morning, they walked together.
Grog set a brutal pace—soldier's pace, the kind that ate miles without mercy. Mirena kept up. She'd learned to endure long before she learned magic.
The forest remained silent.
No birds. No animals. Just the crunch of their boots and the whisper of wind through branches that seemed to lean closer with every step.
"Something's wrong," Mirena said at midday.
Grog didn't slow. "Many things are wrong."
"More than usual. The silence. The—" She searched for words. "The watching."
Grog glanced at her. "You feel it too."
"Yes."
He nodded. Said nothing.
They walked faster.
---
That afternoon, they found the village.
Or what was left of it.
Smoke still rose from collapsed buildings. Bodies lay in the snow—not many, but enough. Signs of fighting. Signs of flight. Signs that something had gotten here first.
Grog stopped at the edge.
Stared.
"This is—" He couldn't finish.
Mirena moved past him. Checked bodies. Checked buildings. Checked for survivors.
None.
Whoever had done this was thorough. Efficient. Patient.
She found tracks leading east. Many tracks. Vargr, by the look of them.
And among them, one set that was different.
Boots. Not Vargr. Human-sized. Human-shaped. Leading away from the village at a walk, not a run. Like whoever wore them had watched the destruction and then simply... left.
She followed the tracks to the tree line.
They stopped there.
Not faded. Not obscured. Just... stopped. Like the walker had vanished into air.
Mirena stood very still.
The hunters, she thought. Not just watching anymore. Acting.
She turned to tell Grog.
He was already there, staring at the same tracks, his face carved from stone.
"They're here," he said quietly. "Not just following. Leading."
"Leading where?"
He looked east. Toward the mountains. Toward where the Vargr army had gone.
"The same place everything's going," he said. "The door."
---
They buried the dead.
Not all of them—too many, too little time. But enough. A small mercy in a place that had seen none.
Grog worked in silence. Mirena worked beside him. Neither spoke.
When they finished, the sun was setting.
"We have to go back," Mirena said.
Grog looked at her.
"The column. Aldric. Lira." She met his eyes. "If the hunters are acting now—if they're hitting villages ahead of us—then everything's moving faster. The war, the gathering, all of it." She paused. "Aldric needs to know. Needs to be ready."
Grog was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "There are other villages. Other people who'll die if I don't warn them."
"And there's an army marching into unknown territory with no idea what's really waiting." Mirena's voice was steady. "You can't save everyone. But you can save them. The ones who matter most."
The words hung in the cold air.
Grog looked at the village. At the graves. At the tracks leading east.
Then he nodded slowly.
"Tomorrow," he said. "We go back at first light."
Mirena nodded.
They made camp in the ruins, too tired to find better shelter.
---
That night, Mirena dreamed.
She was standing in the Grove. The ancient trees. The flat stone. The darkness that breathed.
And in the darkness, red eyes.
"You've been looking for me," a voice said. Old. Patient. Wrong.
Mirena tried to move. Couldn't.
"You're clever. The cleverest of them. That's why I'm letting you go back."
Letting her?
"You'll tell them what you saw. The village. The tracks. The speed of it all." The red eyes glowed. "You'll make them afraid. Make them desperate. Make them ready."
"For what?"
The smile in the darkness.
"For the moment when he chooses."
Mirena woke gasping.
The fire had burned to embers. Grog slept nearby, axe in hand. The forest was silent.
But at the edge of the clearing, something moved.
A shape. Dark. Watching.
It faded as she watched.
But the message was clear.
We know you're here. We're letting you go. Tell them what you saw.
Mirena sat in the darkness, heart pounding, and wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.