The deep bay of the hound came again, closer this time.
I crouched near the entrance of the cave and looked down the rocky incline. Through the morning mist I saw more torches. Not dozens yet, but enough. Armored men moved in a slow grid. At the front rode a figure in clean crimson robes — Cleric Silas. Beside him walked a tall man in silver armor holding a glowing golden lantern.
A High Inquisitor.
The hounds strained against their iron leashes, noses low to the wet ground. They had the scent of blood from the keep.
"They have us," Kaelen whispered beside me. His voice stayed flat. "Those are Church tracking hounds. Once they lock on, they do not stop."
I checked the System. I had just over two hundred points left after the night’s purchases. Not enough for a proper scent mask or a long-range teleport. The cave was a dead end if they reached the top of the slope.
"I can hold the entrance for a while," I said. "Not against a full pack and an Inquisitor."
Kaelen looked back into the cave. Seraphina sat propped against the wall in the damp cloak. Isolde sat beside her, listening hard, one hand still resting near my belt even though I had stepped away.
Kaelen let out a slow breath.
"When I tracked the wagons two days ago I found an old smuggler’s watchtower three miles north," he said. "Built into the cliff. Stone path the whole way. No mud for the hounds to follow. The iron door still holds."
"Three miles carrying two people is too far once the hounds are running," I said.
"You will not be running from them," Kaelen answered. "I will."
I looked at him. He did not flinch. He drew his curved saber. The steel made a soft sound in the quiet cave.
"I am covered in the blood of the Vanguard," he said. "I am fast enough to stay ahead for a while, and loud enough to make sure they follow me. I will draw them east into the deeper woods. You take the princess and the Draven woman north to the tower."
"If you do that, they will hunt you with everything they have," I said. "You may not come back."
"I swore an oath to my princess," Kaelen said. There was no fear in his voice. Only the same cold calculation he had shown on the stairs. "My life belongs to Aldemoor. If I die pulling their blades away from her throat, then I die with the oath intact."
He walked over to Seraphina and dropped to one knee.
"Commander," Seraphina said. Her voice was tight. "Do not throw your life away for a delay."
"I am buying you time, Your Highness," Kaelen answered. "When the winter passes, I will find you if I am still breathing. Until then, survive."
He did not wait for her to argue further. He stood, locked eyes with me once, and gave a short nod.
"Keep her alive, Voss."
Then he went out.
He did not try to be quiet. He activated his wind aura and ran east across the rocky slope, boots loud on the stone, saber flashing once against a tree trunk so the crack carried. The hounds’ heads snapped toward the sound at once. The Inquisitor blew a sharp whistle. The whole line of torches turned and began to move after him.
I watched until the lights disappeared into the thicker trees.
Kaelen had given us a window. It would not last long.
"Isolde. Grab my belt," I said.
She reached out at once. Her cold fingers found the leather and locked on. I lifted Seraphina carefully over my shoulder. The weight pulled at the cut on my ribs, but I ignored it.
"He is a Master-tier swordsman," I told Seraphina. "He bought us time. Do not waste it."
We left the cave and turned north.
The trek was hard. The path was uneven rock and wet roots. My rib ached with every step. Isolde stumbled twice. Both times I reached back and caught her arm before she fell. She did not complain. She only tightened her grip on my belt and kept moving. Her breathing stayed short and controlled.
Seraphina’s weight pulled at the cut across my ribs. I shifted her once to ease the pressure, but there was no comfortable way to carry someone who could not hold on. Kaelen had drawn the main force east. That did not mean the forest was empty. I kept my eyes on the trees and the ground ahead.
We walked for more than an hour in the thinning rain. The sounds of the hunt faded behind us. Only the drip of water from the trees and our own breathing remained. Once I thought I heard a distant horn, but it did not come again.
At last the dense forest opened onto a sheer rock face. Built into a natural fold in the cliff was a two-story stone and timber watchtower. The slate roof was intact. The heavy iron-reinforced oak door still hung straight on its hinges. No one had forced it recently.
I climbed the stone steps, kicked the latch free, and pushed the door open. The hinges groaned loud in the quiet.
Inside it was dry. One large main room, a stone hearth, a wooden table, a dusty cot against the far wall. The air smelled of old dust and dried pine. No rot. No beasts. No recent footprints in the dust on the floor.
I set Isolde down and laid Seraphina on the cot after brushing the worst of the dust away with my sleeve. I closed the door and dropped the thick iron bar into place. The sound of the rain outside became a distant murmur. For the first time since the keep, we had solid walls and a locked door between us and the forest.
I took out the heat stones again and struck them. Warmth spread through the room. Isolde let out a long breath and held her hands toward it. Seraphina’s eyes followed me as I moved from the door to the cot and back.
I cleaned the mud and blood from both of them with the remaining purified water. Seraphina stayed quiet while I wiped her face and neck. The cloth came away dirty. When I turned to Isolde, she flinched once at the first touch, then held still and let me work. The last of the black residue came off under the cloth.
"The pain is gone," Isolde said after a while. Her voice was softer than usual. "My eyes feel empty, but the burning is gone. You kept your word."
"I said I would."
She reached out and found my chest with her hand. Her fingers rested over my heart for a moment, feeling the steady beat.
"You are a dangerous man, Cassian Voss," she said. "But I am glad it is you holding the line."
I did not answer. I stood and walked toward the back of the room to check the cupboards for anything useful — food, tools, dry cloth. Most of the shelves were empty. A few rusted nails. An old oil lamp with no oil.
My boot stepped on a hollow floorboard near the far corner. The wood gave a loud, empty creak.
Isolde sat up straight on the cot. Her unseeing eyes turned toward the floor under my feet.
"Cassian," she said. Her voice had gone sharp. "The shadows under that board... they are wrong."
I knelt and forced the board up. The plank came free with a crack.
Underneath was a narrow compartment cut into the stone. Lined with old velvet that had gone stiff with age. Inside sat dozens of small glass vials filled with swirling purple sludge — the same nerve-rotting curse elixir Cleric Silas had once offered me for Isolde.
In the center of the vials lay a heavy silver pendant stamped with an unburning flame.
Cardinal Vane’s personal crest.