The song still echoed faintly in Astrid’s ears long after the music had faded.

  She had tucked the cracked phone back into her pack and, for a moment, had just stared at the lock screen.

  Charlie. I’m coming, kiddo.

  Grinning softly to herself, she and Kurai picked their way forward across the fractured land.

  ---

  The ash thinned.

  The ground hardened beneath their boots.

  The silence changed.

  Kurai didn’t speak, but he stayed close — footsteps in rhythm with hers.

  Astrid kicked a loose stone, letting it skitter across the glassy black surface.

  “How much longer ‘til we get to this damn volcano?” she muttered, dragging a hand through her ash-tangled hair.

  Kurai cast her a sideways glance. The corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Someone’s getting cranky,” he said dryly. “Need a nap?”

  Astrid snorted.

  “Yeah, well, you’d be cranky too if you were sore and smelled like burnt socks. You’re not even sweating. Whatever you are, it’s cheating.”

  Kurai huffed — which, from him, was practically a laugh.

  For a moment, it felt almost normal.

  ---

  Then the land began to change again.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Ash gave way to smooth black glass — rippling across the ground in slow, sinuous veins.

  The silence thickened.

  No birds.

  No insects.

  Only wind and the low hiss of shifting ash.

  Pillars loomed — jagged and leaning, cracked and humming faintly.

  Light warped over the horizon, twisting like heat off metal.

  Astrid slowed, her steps quieter without meaning to.

  She glanced toward one of the towering structures as they passed.

  It vibrated deep in her chest — not sound exactly, but sensation.

  Kurai brushed too close to one.

  The ground beneath his boots rippled — slow, like water disturbed by a heartbeat.

  Plants clinging to nearby stone shifted slightly as he passed — not from wind.

  From him.

  Astrid frowned, watching him.

  This place reacts to him. Like the rest of the world always has. But here... it’s different.

  Magic couldn’t touch her. She knew that. But this didn’t feel like magic.

  It wasn’t a spell cast on her — it was just... here. Like heat, or sound. Like memory.

  And memory, it seemed, didn’t need permission.

  Kurai said nothing.

  But she saw his hands flex.

  His jaw tightened.

  He felt it too.

  ---

  “Okay,” Astrid muttered. “This is starting to feel less badass and more haunted temple.”

  Kurai’s golden eyes flicked toward her.

  “Just stay close.”

  They kept walking.

  Astrid’s boots slipped slightly on the glass — a momentary loss of balance. She cursed under her breath, catching herself.

  Of course Kurai walked like the surface was solid ground.

  Show-off.

  ---

  The horizon shimmered.

  And just for a breath — she thought she saw something move between the pillars.

  Not an animal.

  Not a person.

  Something tall.

  Thin.

  Watching.

  Gone when she blinked.

  She gripped her pack tighter and kept walking.

  ---

  They stopped near sundown.

  A crumbling stone overhang — jagged and hollow — offered a little cover.

  Astrid dropped her pack with a grunt and sank against the wall, stretching aching legs.

  Every muscle screamed.

  Kurai settled nearby.

  Arms resting loosely across his knees.

  Eyes not on her — but on the horizon.

  Always watching. Always braced.

  Astrid watched him for a moment.

  He was close.

  Closer than he used to let himself be.

  She didn’t break the silence.

  Some things didn’t need words.

  ---

  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  And for once, she didn’t dream of home.

  She dreamed of cracked glass.

  Of pillars humming like heartbeats.

  Of walking forward, even when it hurt.

  Of not being alone.

  ---

  The ground was too warm beneath her.

  Something hard pressed into her back.

  The air was thick and strange.

  Astrid opened her eyes again, gaze drifting over the horizon.

  For just a second — she swore the land moved.

  Not heat.

  Not illusion.

  The glass pulsed.

  Breathed.

  Then it was still again.

  Maybe it was exhaustion.

  Maybe not.

  ---

  She wrapped her arms around her knees, suddenly small under the weight of the ash-heavy sky.

  "...We’re not alone here, are we?" she whispered.

  Kurai didn’t answer right away.

  When he did, his voice was low. Certain.

  “No.”

  ---

  The night deepened.

  Ash curled through the stillness.

  The pillars loomed like watchful titans.

  Astrid didn’t sleep.

  She stared out across the shifting glass and thought:

  The land was changing. Shifting. Watching. Testing.

  Not fear exactly.

  But inevitability.

  Something was coming.

  And they had already stepped into its shadow.