The watchtower was just as he remembered it.
But emptier now.
Revyn stood beneath its arch, boots crunching in the shallow snow, staring up at the familiar silhouette cutting into the pale sky. Its stones leaned slightly east, just as they always had, the upper windows dark and hollow where Liora's crimson shape once stood like a flame.
The valley below lay still, echoing under a sheet of frost as God's breath whistled in the air.
He stood there for a long moment, feeling the cold settle into his bones, his gaze sweeping across the white hills and the crooked ridge beyond. This was the only sanctuary he could find after escaping the abomination he fought. And yet, he knew he could not stay. The thought coiled sharply behind his ribs, heavier than grief. If he stayed, he would only rot.
He remembered how he was before. Weaker, breathing hard, Liora struck him down again and again in the dust. He remembered her voice, sharp and cold, always a step ahead of him.
"You're too slow."
"If you can't control it, it'll kill you."
"Do it again."
He'd hated her then.
And he hated that he almost wished she were still here now.
The Ashlight stirred faintly in his chest, curling through his ribs, mocking the emptiness of the tower.
It was warmer now, louder. Alive in a way it hadn't been when she was here, invigorating his cultivation.
And it had carried him this far.
He climbed the stairs slowly, one hand trailing the wall out of habit.
Seventy-two steps.
Seventy-three.
At the top, the wind cut sharply through the hollow windows. Snow drifted across the stones, piling in corners where Liora once sat waiting and watching for him to rise from the ground during training.
Revyn crossed to the far wall and leaned against it, letting himself sink to the floor.
His breath slowed as he let the quiet take him. For a moment, he thought he could still see her there in the corner of his vision, a phantom of red silk and sharp eyes before she faded into memory again.
He hadn't known her long, but she had saved his life.
His hands burned faintly with light, the glyphs tracing up his skin in steady, artistic spirals.
He flexed his fingers and watched the glow deepen.
He hadn't broken yet.
Not yet.
And the valley behind him.
He could feel it pulling at him, soft and tempting, promising rest, promising the comfort of failure. But the thought of her eyes, of the word remember burning in his dreams, hardened his resolve. He would not die here like a dog in an alleyway. The memory of failure. The sting of disappointment. The way she'd walked away without even looking back. The haunting fight with a broken warrior.
He rose to his feet, snow falling from his shoulders.
And without looking back, he started down the stairs.
The valley stretched behind him as he left it, narrowing into steep ridges and jagged paths. His breath caught in the cold air, boots sinking into snow that grew deeper the farther he went.
The Ashlight pulsed faintly in his chest, quiet but steady, pushing him forward.
Toward the river.
Toward her?
The hills beyond the valley loomed sharp and white, and the path ahead was nothing more than a faint line through the drifts.
It didn't matter.
He didn't plan on coming back.
The deeper he went, the stranger the world seemed to grow. The snow no longer fell gently here; it drifted in tight little spirals as though stirred by some invisible breath. The trees along the ridge stood farther apart than they should, their branches blackened, their bark split. Faint claw marks littered the rocks along the path, and old bones peeked through thin layers of snow. He wondered, briefly, how many others had tried to leave this valley before him, and how many had made it farther than this.
The sun was already sinking when he reached the edge of the woods. Long shadows stretched across the snow, thin and strange, cast by trees that stood like blackened spears rising from the ground. The air smelled faintly of pine and ice. He stopped at the treeline, taking in the hush of the place. The quiet was different here. Not the silence of the tower, but something heavier. Watchful.
He stopped to catch his breath, leaning against one of the trees.
That was when he heard them.
At first, it was nothing but a faint crunch in the snow.
Then another.
Then a low, guttural growl rumbled through the quiet.
His head lifted slowly.
They were watching him.
Yellow eyes glimmered faintly in the dark between the trees, circling.
Wolves.
A group of 6, maybe more. Their shapes long and lean, fur streaked with white and grey, their paws silent even as they moved through the snow.
The lead wolf stepped into the clearing first, baring its teeth.
Revyn straightened, his breath calm despite the way the Ashlight already flared at the edge of his thoughts.
After awakening, he had been beaten down by hands stronger than his own. By Liora's strikes. By the Hollowed creature that moved faster and struck harder than he could.
But these.
These were not stronger than him.
These were prey.
Still, something primal inside him thrilled at the sight of them, their teeth bared, their breath steaming in the fading light, the thin sheet of frost catching in their fur. They were beautiful, in their own way. Beautiful and doomed. His fingers curled loosely, and the glyphs on his skin brightened, humming faintly in the still air.
The lead wolf lunged first, its paws kicking up snow as it closed the gap in a single bound.
Revyn moved without thinking.
His hand shot out, his qi flaring bright and sharp in his palm.
The moment his fingers touched fur, the light erupted, pale flames curling around the beast's body.
Its howl cut through the woods before it collapsed in a smoking heap, its disfigured body already turning to ash.
The others hesitated for only a breath before closing in, their growls low and furious.
Revyn stepped forward to meet them.
The second wolf snapped at his arm, its teeth scraping his sleeve. he turned, his fist slammed into its skull, light bursting outward as its body crumpled.
The third and fourth came from opposite sides.
He spun, letting the Ashlight climb up his arms, a grief not his fueling it now, the feeling of losing a leader and role model funneling into his soul. His hands cut arcs through the air that burned everything they touched.
Both wolves hit the ground hard, the snow beneath them blackened.
He didn't stop. Even as the fifth wolf leapt for his throat, he ducked low, caught it midair, and drove it into the earth, the impact scattering snow in all directions. The Ashlight flared bright enough to light the surrounding trees around him, searing the beast to dust before it could even scream. His breath came heavy now, but his hands stayed steady. He was in control. More than he'd ever been.
The fire raged not with heat by with loss, the scorch marks embedded with the loss of loved ones and self-hatred.
The last two circled wide, their ears flat, tails low.
Revyn exhaled slowly and opened his hands.
The glyphs on his skin flared brighter, spirals of light crawling up to his shoulders.
"You should have run," he murmured, his voice low.
The wolves froze for a moment too long.
He struck fast, stepping forward, sorrow cracking through his ribs as his palm caught one square in the chest. The Ashlight exploded outward, tearing the creature apart before it hit the ground.
The final wolf turned to flee, but he was already there, his fingers closing around its neck, dragging it into the snow as pale fire burned it from the inside out.
And then there was silence.
The woods were quiet again.
Revyn stood in the centre of the clearing, his chest rising and falling with sharp, even breaths.
The snow around him was scattered with ashes and faint black streaks where fur had burned away.
The light in his hands dimmed slowly, settling back into faint spirals as he flexed his fingers.
For the first time in days, he felt strong.
Grief still ached behind his ribs. Increasing as he absorbed the emotional pain of each wolf he slaughtered. But it was not enough to break him.
Not anymore.
He straightened, brushing soot from his sleeve, and turned back toward the path ahead.
The river was waiting.
And somewhere beyond it, so was she.
He lingered for a moment longer, scanning the treeline where the pack had first appeared. The faint prints of their paws were already dismissed by drifting snow, as if nature was eager to erase them. He wondered how many more things in this wilderness would be erased, or if he would be one of them, swallowed into these hills with nothing left but a faint mark where he fell. The thought tightened his throat, though he forced it back down. There was no room for that kind of weakness now. Not when her memory still pressed faintly at the edge of his mind, like a whispered promise he couldn't yet name.
The clearing felt colder now. His breath came slow and steady, fog curling in thin ribbons as he began to move again. Every step crunched softly underfoot, a measured rhythm against the hush of the forest. The trees grew taller here, their trunks darker, their shadows longer, as though the path itself was closing in on him. Strange icicles hung from some of the branches, glowing faintly where the moonlight caught them, like blades of glass. Once or twice, he thought he saw something move in the corner of his vision, the faint brush of fur, a glint of yellow eyes watching, but when he turned, there was nothing. Just silence. Just more snow.
His fingers curled once more, feeling the faint heat of the Ashlight still thrumming beneath his skin. That strange power, his power, had made short work of the wolves. But it hadn't dulled his grief. It hadn't quieted the question still lurking in his chest. Why was he still here? Why did he keep walking, when every part of him still screamed to stop? The answer, though, came as easily as his next step: because something waited for him. Out there. Beyond the river. Beyond even this endless forest. And whether it was her or something else entirely, he had to see it. Had to know. What was his purpose?
He let out one last breath into the quiet woods, watching it drift faintly in the still air before fading. Then he continued to walk, boots crunching softly in the snow, leaving behind nothing but ashes and silence.
Power thrummed faintly in his chest, steady now, quiet.
For now.