The Mountains. Afternoon.
The company rode in silence.
The trail was steep, the air thin, the peaks closing in around them. Grog led the way, his eyes on the path ahead, his mind on Ken's words. A cult. Worshippers of the void. People who wanted the door to open.
He had seen such things before. In the old timeline. In the cavern at the end. The people who had helped the hunters. The people who had prepared the way for Vorlag.
He had thought they were gone. He had been wrong.
Ken rode beside him, his bow across his back, his eyes on the trees. He had been quiet since the confession, his face still, his hands steady.
Grog glanced at him. "You said you were one of them."
Ken didn't look at him. "I was."
"How old?"
"Fifteen. Maybe sixteen. I don't remember." Ken's voice was flat. "I was living on the streets. Stealing to eat. Sleeping in alleys. They found me. Gave me food. Clothes. A place to sleep."
Grog waited.
"They told me I was special. That I had a gift. That I could help them change the world." Ken's jaw tightened. "I believed them."
"What did they want?"
Ken was quiet for a moment. "To open the door. To bring Vorlag through. To remake the world in its image."
Grog felt the cold settle in his chest. "How did you get out?"
Ken met his eyes. "I saw what they were doing. The sacrifices. The rituals. The things they summoned." He paused. "I saw what came through."
Grog nodded slowly. "The creatures."
Ken shook his head. "Not the creatures. Something else. Something worse."
---
Lira rode behind them, her bow in her hand, her eyes on the trees.
She had been listening to the conversation, her ears sharp, her mind racing. A cult. Worshippers of the void. People who wanted the door to open.
She had seen such things before. On the border. In the old timeline. The people who had helped the hunters. The people who had prepared the way for Vorlag.
She had thought they were gone. She had been wrong.
She urged her horse forward, pulled up beside Ken.
"You said you were hunting them. Before the creatures."
Ken nodded. "I was."
"How many?"
He was quiet for a moment. "I killed seven. There were more. They scattered when I started hunting them."
Lira studied him. "And now?"
Ken met her eyes. "Now they're back. Watching. Waiting."
Lira's hand tightened on her bow. "Then we find them. Before they find us."
---
Mirena rode at the back of the group, her staff in her hand, the stone pulsing in her pocket.
She had been listening to the conversation, her mind racing, her thoughts churning. A cult. Worshippers of the void. People who wanted the door to open.
She had read about such things. In Kevin's journals. In the old texts. The people who had helped the hunters. The people who had prepared the way for Vorlag.
She had thought they were legends. She had been wrong.
She urged her horse forward, pulled up beside Ken.
"The cult. You said they worshipped the void."
Ken nodded. "They did."
"What did they believe?"
Ken was quiet for a moment. "That Vorlag would remake the world. That the strong would survive. That the weak would be swept away." He paused. "That they would be the strong."
Mirena absorbed this. "And you?"
Ken met her eyes. "I believed it. For a while."
---
William rode at the front, beside Grog, his hand on his sword.
He had been listening to the conversation, his jaw tight, his mind racing. A cult. Worshippers of the void. People who wanted the door to open.
He had heard of such things. In the capital. In the court. Whispers of people who believed the world was ending. Who welcomed it.
He had thought they were mad. He had been right.
"Grog."
Grog looked at him.
"The cult. The people Ken was hunting. Do you think they're connected to the portal?"
Grog was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. But I don't believe in coincidence."
William nodded slowly. "Neither do I."
---
They made camp at sunset.
The fire was small, the watches were set, the horses were tethered. Grog sat apart, his back against a tree, his sword across his knees. He was thinking about the cult, about the portal, about the thing that was coming.
Ken sat across from him, his bow in his hand, his eyes on the darkness.
"You're still thinking about what I told you."
Grog nodded. "I am."
Ken was quiet for a moment. "I'm not proud of what I was. What I did."
Grog met his eyes. "You left."
"I did."
"That's what matters."
Ken looked away. "I hope so."
---
Lira took first watch.
She sat at the edge of the camp, her bow across her knees, her eyes on the darkness. She was thinking about the cult, about the portal, about the thing that was coming.
She was thinking about Ken. About what he had been. About what he had become.
She didn't trust him. Not completely. But she understood him.
She had done things she wasn't proud of. In the old timeline. In this one. She had killed. She had survived. She had done what she had to do.
She watched the darkness until her eyes burned.
---
In the night, something moved at the edge of the camp.
Ken saw it—just a shape, just a shadow, gone before he could raise his bow. He sat perfectly still, his eyes on the darkness, his hand on his sword.
It didn't come back.
But he felt it watching. Waiting.
He didn't sleep.