37: ASH OF THE UNMADE

AYLA – POV

The first night on the Loomless Path was not quiet.

There were no sounds of bond-hum or forest song. No old runes humming beneath our feet. No pack call threading through the air.

But the silence wasn't empty.

It was watching.

And I felt it—behind my spine, just beyond hearing, just past knowing.

Something had followed us.

A memory. One that refused to be forgotten.

Kael kept his back to the fire. Not for heat, to face the dark.

His blade lay across his lap, polished, but unused. His wolf hadn't surfaced since we passed through the last gate. I knew why.

There was nothing to scent here.

Only the things that couldn't be smelled.

Things too old to leave a trail.

Callen slept light, her breathing a slow counter-rhythm to the thread still circling her wrist—a faint silver spiral that hadn't faded, even though the realm should've taken it.

And me?

I sat at the edge of the glade.