They travelled three hours out from the Chateau when the road changed.
It was subtle at first--roots in odd, braided patterns underfoot, like the trees shared a secret with the soil. The air was heavier now, but it wasn't cold. Instead, it was intentional, like an invisible being had noticed them and wanted to listen.
In truth, Lucian felt it before he saw it.
His Echoheart System gave a low, steady hum against his hip. It wasn't alerting him of any danger--just the potential.
"Someone's following us," Cadrel muttered, hand tightening around his dagger.
"No," Merry corrected, slowing her pace. "We're being measured."
Lucian raised an eyebrow.
"Measured?"
Merry stopped, crouched low, and brushed snow from the stone path.
His eyes widened.
There it was.
It was a glyph. Ancient, tangled, and barely visible beneath a smear of ash and leafrot. The shape was all wrong, too. It was uncertain instead of broken. Its lines pulsed softly like a half-asked question.
