The trees thinned behind them, and the capital rose ahead—tall and silver and cold, like the promise of a winter storm.

  Astrid walked quietly. Not numb, not broken. Just quiet. Like the silence after a storm when the world is still deciding whether to bloom or break.

  The weight of the fae’s illusion still lingered in her chest. Not like a wound—more like a bruise. She could still feel the child’s hand in hers. Still hear Charlie’s voice in the trees.

  But she wasn’t running from it anymore.

  She’d chosen to carry the girl. The fear. The softness. Not as weakness—but as a reason.

  Kurai walked beside her, close enough that their arms brushed now and then. He hadn’t pried. Hadn’t asked what she saw in the woods.

  He didn’t need to.

  She caught him watching her once, like he wasn’t sure what to say. Like he was trying to memorize this quieter version of her.

  “I’m okay,” she said before he could speak.

  His brow furrowed, like he didn’t quite believe it.

  She offered a small smile. “As fucked up as that was... I feel less broken. Maybe you should give it a try. Might be good for you too.” She smirked.

  “Then again—I don’t know if we could ever break you out of your little shell.” she teased.

  She didn’t want him to worry. She was okay—not cured, not magically amazing—just better.

  He let out a soft laugh and nodded once. "You do seem... different," he said after a beat. "Not in a bad way. Just... steadier."

  She glanced at him, surprised—but didn’t deflect it. Just nodded.

  “We’re close to the capital now,” he said softly. “We watch each other’s backs. That’s the deal.”

  Astrid nodded.

  We can do this, time to put my game face on.

  They had already tried to circle wide—twice—picking their way through thick overgrowth, crumbled paths, and ravines hoping to avoid the city entirely. But every route led them to the same grim reality.

  Blockades.

  Heavy patrols lined the outer paths. Enchanted wards flickered like heat mirages above hidden trails. At one crossing, they saw two masked Enforcers dragging someone out of the brush, a glowing collar locked around their throat. No one spoke after that.

  Now, crouched behind a large boulder, Kurai pulled out the worn map they'd marked with Rundrin—creases deep, edges torn, annotated in hasty ink.

  They crouched near the boulder while Astrid traced a path with her finger.

  “We could try the north passage,” she said. “Follow this route through the cliffs.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Kurai shook his head. “Too exposed. Wards trigger there.”

  He pointed lower on the map. “And the southern marshland? Swallowed by the last quake. We'd be crawling over sinkholes.”

  Astrid exhaled through her nose. “So every road either collapses beneath us or ends in a patrol.”

  Kurai nodded grimly. He tapped the center of the map. “They’ve turned the capital into a bridge. One way through. One gate in. It’s not just about security. They want to control who gets to the other side—to the volcanic isles. To the dragon lands.”

  “Their reason was to be the first line of defense against the dragons,” he added with a bitter scoff.

  Astrid stared at the map, throat tightening.

  “They’re trying to stop anyone from reaching what’s left of them.”

  “They’re trying to stop us,” Kurai said.

  Astrid folded the map, her hands trembling slightly.

  It wasn’t just the fear.

  It was the feeling of being cornered. Watched. Hunted.

  “They knew we were coming.”

  Blockades had been set—strategic, precise. Wards shimmered faintly above the treeline, and soldiers in black patrolled with tight formation.

  “Do you think it was the Barghest?” she whispered.

  “Maybe.”

  “Or...” Her voice dipped lower. “Maybe they got something out of the dwarves.”

  Kurai didn’t answer. But his expression darkened.

  Astrid’s chest ached. She didn’t want to imagine the forge under siege. Rundrin captured. Galgur bleeding. Being tortured for information.

  They stood together, backs to the ridge, facing a choice.

  “We can’t go around,” she said.

  “No,” Kurai replied. “Every way in is blocked—except the front.”

  She looked toward the capital, its gates gleaming in the distance.

  “They won’t expect that,” she murmured.

  Kurai turned slowly toward her. “You’re not serious.”

  She met his eyes. “Let’s do what they won’t see coming.”

  ---

  The ridge gave way to gravel paths and dry, wind-swept stone. In the distance, the outer ring of the capital shimmered with magical wards and illusion-weaved gates. Enforcers stood like statues, cloaked and masked, scanning those who passed beneath the archways.

  They stopped at the edge of a bluff, staring down at the city.

  “They’ll check for sigils,” Kurai muttered. “Bloodlines. Wards. Everything.”

  Astrid’s eyes narrowed on the line of marked travelers below. Brands on their necks or forearms. Silent. Tame.

  “They’re not just looking for magic,” she said. “They’re looking for obedience.”

  Kurai didn’t respond. His jaw clenched.

  “I need a brand,” she said.

  “No.” The word snapped out sharp. “Absolutely not.”

  “If we’re going in,” she pressed, “they’ll stop us unless I’m marked. A citizen. A servant. I don’t care what it means to them—I know what it means to me.”

  Kurai turned away. “You don’t understand what they’ll think when they see it. What they’ll assume you are.”

  “I don’t care what they see,” she said, stepping in front of him. “I care that we get through those gates.”

  His flame flickered at his fingertips, uncertain.

  Astrid rolled up her sleeve.

  “Do it.”

  Kurai’s hands hovered inches from her skin. “It’ll hurt.”

  “I know.”

  He hesitated—just for a second. Then he took her arm in both hands, gently turning it so the underside faced up. Her skin was pale there, vulnerable.

  He drew in a slow breath, his fingers brushing her pulse. Then he pressed his palm flat against her forearm.

  A violet glow bloomed between them—soft at first, then burning bright.

  His magic spiraled outward, forming a sigil: a circle within circles, pointed stars intersected by arcs and curved runes. It pulsed like something alive. Like the one etched into the dirt by ancient hands… but now carved into her skin.

  It looked like it belonged on stone, not on someone’s body.

  Pain tore up her arm like lightning through bone.

  Astrid didn’t scream. Her body jolted, her jaw clenched, but her eyes stayed locked on the horizon.

  When it was done, Kurai pulled away as if scorched.

  The mark glowed just below her elbow—brilliant, intricate, and unmistakably forged. A sigil of submission. A symbol meant to brand the obedient.

  But her chin was lifted. Her gaze didn’t flinch.

  She’d chosen this. And that changed everything.

  Kurai stood there, silent.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  He looked at the mark on her skin and felt his throat tighten. Not out of fear—out of fury. That this was what survival demanded. That she had done it, and now he had to.

  His jaw tightened.

  “I’m not—” He stopped, breath shaky. “I’m not putting that thing on myself.”

  “Kurai.” She grabbed his hand reassuring.

  He looked away, voice low. “It’s not the pain. It’s what it means. What they’ve done with it. I swore I’d never wear their chains.”

  Astrid stepped closer. “Then don’t wear it for them. Wear it for me. So we walk through together.”

  A long pause.

  Then, reluctantly, he nodded.

  He pulled back his sleeve and pressed his hand to his own forearm. The brand etched into his skin slower, harsher—his magic resisting itself, even as it obeyed.

  When it was done, his mark shimmered beside hers.

  They looked at each other. No words. Just the burn of shared defiance.

  ---

  They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  Hoods up. Eyes down. The wind tugged at their cloaks like the city was already trying to pull them apart.

  Closer now, Astrid could see the runes carved into the metal gates. Could feel the hum of power in the air—magic layered on magic, meant to strip you bare as you crossed the threshold.

  She reached for the pendant beneath her shirt—the one Kurai gave her—and held it like a memory. Like a promise.

  They stepped into line.

  Ahead, the gates creaked open.

  Enforcers watched.

  The world held its breath.

  Kurai leaned closer. “Last chance to run.”

  Astrid didn’t look at him.

  She stepped forward, head high, heart pounding.

  “I’m going home,” she said. “I made a promise to Charlie.”

  Thankyou to everyone who has taken the time to read my story and even give a like or comment, I’m just happy that people are reading it because I honestly thought no one would.