Chapter 56 - Fifty Six
The air shifted as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Orange and crimson bled across the sky like open wounds. Clouds drifted slow and thick above the trees, swallowing the last of the light. The warmth of day faded from the ground beneath my boots. I stood near the boundary of the Vale, my fingers wrapped tightly around the wolfstone pendant I had just barely managed to enchant.
It pulsed faintly against my palm, the moonlight beginning to catch on its rough surface. I could still feel the remnants of its wild energy—untamed, unpredictable, and deeply tied to my own heart. That was the problem. It didn’t obey unless I was still inside.
And lately, I hadn’t been still at all.
My thoughts never stopped moving. My heart never stopped racing. Even now, as silence settled over the land, something in me kept shifting, like I was waiting for something to happen. Or maybe dreading it.
Behind me, the trees whispered. Leaves shivered as if in warning. The wind carried a different kind of chill. Not one from weather—but from presence. From something ancient, watching.
Orrin appeared silently at my side. He always moved like smoke—quiet but thick with purpose. "You feel it too," he said.
I nodded. "It’s watching again."
He looked toward the distant edge of the Vale where the shadows thickened like old blood. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp. "It waits for nightfall. It always has."
I swallowed hard. "Why?"
"Because night is when we doubt," he said simply. "And that’s what it feeds on."
He stepped forward and knelt, touching the ground with his fingertips like he was reading a language written in dirt. "This place holds its own rules. The red-eyed beast does not belong to flesh or bone. It’s made of broken will. Failed trials. Lost souls. It comes when you falter. It stalks when you hesitate."