Audree picked at a blade of grass, eyes forward.

  Then, without looking at Lief, he said, “I’m training.”

  Lief blinked. “Obviously.”

  Audree shot him a sideways look. “Not… like alchemy training. Fighting.”

  Lief’s gaze dropped without thinking—down Audree’s cloak, the way it hung oddly on one side, like it was hiding something stiff along his spine.

  He shifted slightly and caught a glimpse of it: the handle of a wooden sword, tucked beneath the folds.

  Lief’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that—”

  Audree sighed. “Yes.”

  Lief stared at him more openly now. It wasn’t just the sword. Audree’s arms looked a little fuller under his sleeves. Not bulky, but… less fragile. His legs too. The kind of change you only noticed when you remembered the old version.

  “You’ve been serious,” Lief murmured.

  Audree’s mouth twitched like he didn’t want to admit it. “Someone tried to jump me recently.”

  Lief went still. “What?”

  Audree’s jaw tightened. “At night. A few guys. They’ve been watching, I guess. People around here still think they can poke at me.”

  Lief’s stomach turned, but Audree kept going before he could spiral into worry.

  “I handled it,” Audree said, voice flat, almost defensive. “Bubbles helped. And… I’m stronger now.”

  Lief looked at him, searching for cracks—fresh bruises, bandages, anything.

  “You got hurt?” Lief asked.

  Audree hesitated. “Not badly.”

  That answer wasn’t comforting, but it was honest in its own Audree way.

  “And you’re training for the woods,” Lief said quietly, more statement than question.

  Audree’s hand stilled in the grass.

  “Yes.”

  Lief exhaled slowly. He’d expected it. Still, hearing it out loud made the field feel colder.

  Audree continued, staring at the sky like he could pretend this wasn’t terrifying. “If something is in there—if people are actually disappearing—then pretending it’s not real isn’t going to fix it.”

  Lief nodded, fingers tightening around the flower stem he’d been holding. “I figured you’d say something like that.”

  Audree glanced at him. “And?”

  “And you’re not wrong,” Lief admitted. “But you’re also not doing it alone.”

  Audree’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t ask—”

  “I know,” Lief cut in, sharper than he intended.

  Audree blinked.

  Lief swallowed and forced his voice to steady. “Let me explain.”

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  He looked down at the flowers around them—petals bright, stems strong, leaves trembling softly in the breeze.

  “My connection to mana is… clearer now,” Lief said. “Ever since I used my powers.”

  Audree’s expression tightened with interest. “Clearer how?”

  Lief searched for the right words. “Before, it was subtle. I just liked plants more than other people did. Being around them felt… good. Calm. Like I could breathe.”

  He paused, then admitted, “I thought that was just me being weird.”

  Audree huffed once, but didn’t interrupt.

  “Now,” Lief continued, voice quieter, “I can hear them.”

  Audree went still. “Hear them?”

  “Not like sound,” Lief said quickly. “Not words. It’s more like… a pull. A pressure. A presence. Like something tugging at your ribs when you stand too close.”

  He pressed his palm into the grass as if grounding himself.

  “Their ‘voices’ are getting louder,” Lief said. “Every day.”

  Audree stared at him.

  “And the woods,” Lief whispered, swallowing hard, “are the loudest.”

  Audree’s eyes narrowed. “Loud because… there’s more mana?”

  “No,” Lief said. His voice shook, just slightly. “Loud because something is hurting them.”

  Silence dropped between them.

  Lief’s throat tightened as he forced himself to say the next part.

  “I feel physical pain from it,” he admitted. “Like… like there’s something wrong in the roots. Something scraping, twisting. Like a bruise you can’t stop pressing.”

  Audree’s expression darkened. “Since when?”

  Lief shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize it was real at first. I thought it was anxiety. Or me imagining things because everything got weird so fast.”

  He let out a slow breath. “I was afraid.”

  Audree didn’t mock him. He didn’t even look smug.

  He just listened.

  Lief’s fingers curled into the grass. “It’s manageable now. Not gone, but… I can breathe through it. I can separate it from myself a little.”

  Audree’s gaze flicked to him. “How?”

  Lief hesitated, then admitted, “I talked to Haldo one time.”

  Audree blinked like he’d misheard. “You—what?”

  “I didn’t want to,” Lief said, embarrassed. “But I felt… wrong. Like something was pulling at me from the forest even when I was inside the bakery. So I went to the library.”

  He mimicked Haldo’s deadpan expression with a small, bitter smile. “He just stared at me. Gave me this look like I was an inconvenience.”

  Audree snorted softly. That sounded right.

  “And then he told me to meditate,” Lief finished. “That was it.”

  Audree stared. “Of course.”

  Lief shrugged. “It helped, though. A little. I think he knew exactly what was happening, and he just… didn’t feel like explaining.”

  Audree muttered, “That old man is allergic to giving straight answers.”

  Lief’s mouth twitched, then fell serious again.

  “My reason isn’t you,” Lief said quietly. “Not this time.”

  Audree’s eyes flicked to him.

  Lief swallowed. “It’s the woods. It’s the plants. It’s… everything living out there.”

  He looked at the field again, at the stubborn flowers that somehow survived Embershade’s poison air.

  “I love nature,” Lief said. “And I can’t ignore it when it’s screaming. Even if nobody else hears it.”

  Audree’s jaw tightened. “Empathy?”

  Lief nodded. “And responsibility.”

  He turned fully toward Audree now, voice steadier. “So I’m going to help you with the woods.”

  Audree opened his mouth—

  “Not blindly,” Lief added immediately. “Not because you’re doing it. Not because I’m chasing adventure.”

  He held Audree’s gaze. “For my own reasons.”

  Audree stared at him for a long moment.

  Then, quietly, he said, “Okay.”

  Lief blinked. “That’s it?”

  Audree’s mouth twitched. “I’m trying to be better at people, remember? Don’t make it harder.”

  Lief huffed a laugh, then calmed.

  Audree looked down at his wrapped arm, then back at Lief. “So we do it right.”

  Lief nodded. “Right.”

  Audree’s voice went firm, like he was setting something in place. “I train to confront whatever’s out there.”

  “And I train,” Lief said, “to understand and control my connection.”

  Audree nodded once, decisive. “We go together.”

  Lief’s chest loosened.

  “Not alone,” Lief agreed.

  They sat beneath the flower field’s stubborn bloom, the sky above them pale and tired, the woods calling somewhere in the distance.