It didn't take as long as he thought to find the road. After a quarter-hour of picking his way through dense thickets, his boots finally hit hard-packed dirt.
Luckiest thing to happen to him today, aside from not dying that is.
Even in the gathering gloom, the path was
unmistakable—a pale, dusty ribbon cutting through the dark silhouettes of the timber. The sun had dipped fully below the horizon, rapidly deepening into night.
Cassian crouched near the edge of the treeline and pulled Garrett's crude map from his tunic pocket, smoothing the parchment against his knee. There was only one road marked on the sketch. That made sense; they were in the deep forest, in the absolute middle of nowhere. A single trade route was all a region like this would ever need.
He lined up the path beneath his feet with the rough charcoal line on the map. The heavy 'X' lay to the west.
Urgency clawed at his chest—every instinct screamed at him to sprint down the dirt road and put miles between himself and Eveldor. But speed was a trap. Moving too fast in the dark made noise, left tracks, and left him blind to ambushes. If he rushed, the chances of Aziel's guards catching him skyrocketed exponentially.
He would have to wait until dawn before he moved. That way, he couldn't run into the people chasing him by accident. He didn't like the idea of walking around the forest at night anyway.
Instead of stepping onto the open path, Cassian backed into the thick shadow of a tree. If those men managed to track him to this road, he was going to let them pass right by him before he took another step toward that 'X'.
He unlatched Garrett's bag to take inventory once more. Reaching inside, he pulled out a thick strip of cured meat. He bit off a piece, chewing slowly. It was seasoned well.
A faint, bitter smile touched Cassian's lips. He liked it, but he forced himself to wrap the remaining portion back up and shove it into the leather pouch. He couldn't afford to burn through his rations before this war of attrition had even truly begun.
Cassian slung the bag over his shoulder, grabbed a low-hanging oak branch, and pulled himself up into the canopy.
He climbed until he was ten feet off the ground, settling into the crook of two heavy branches where the thick foliage hid him completely from the road below. From this new vantage point, he lowered his head and scanned the forest floor.
At first, there was only silence. The forest seemed abandoned.
Then, a bush rustled off to his left.
Cassian's eyes narrowed as three heavy silhouettes emerged from the underbrush. The guards. Their iron armor gleamed faintly in the moonlight as they paused at the edge of the road, looking left and right, searching for tracks.
How did they even find him? He made the right call.
Cassian held his breath, pressing his back against the tree trunk.
Then, the lead guard barked a quiet order and pointed down the path. The three men separated, fanning out into the darkness—one staying on the road, while the other two split off into opposite sides of the treeline.
Cassian watched them part ways, his grip tightening on the bark of the tree.
Now he had to worry about three different people instead of one autonomous group. Great.
"Nothing we can do about it now" he would have to wait it out.
He rested his back against the tree, and closed his eyes. He would pick this up again tomorrow morning
Cassian woke up, and looked down at the road. There was no one there. Not anymore. Now was his chance.
He climbed down the tree and ran towards the road stopping inches from it. He looked around, and after he confirmed there was no one there, he started running.
He didn't look back.
He kept a steady, tireless pace, his boots caked in dried mud, the strap of Garrett's sack digging into his shoulder. He'd survived the night. He'd outsmarted the Archon's hounds. But survival was a temporary state, and as the morning chill seeped through his clothes, the reality of his situation set in.
He was walking blind toward an 'X' drawn by a hunter who had probably never left his own small village.
"You look like a drowned rat," Materdea's voice echoed in his mind, sharp and utterly devoid of sympathy.
Cassian didn't break his stride. "Good morning to you, too. Glad to know my misery keeps you entertained."
"It does, actually. Watching a boy squeezing a machete while hiding in an oak tree like a startled squirrel is the most amusement I've had in decades."
"I survived."
"You delayed the inevitable," she corrected lazily.
"Aziel's men will realize they lost your trail by mid-day.
They'll regroup, report back, and the Archon will expand the hunt. Walking aimlessly to some nameless settlement isn't a plan, Cassian."
Cassian pulled the crumpled parchment from his pocket, glaring at the charcoal mark. "Garrett said there were supplies and a path west. I'm following the map."
"Garrett is a lovely old man who smells of deer fat and woodsmoke. He knows how to track boar, not how to hide a marked soul from the Archon's seers."
A subtle shift ran through her tone—the dry sarcasm melting away into something heavier.
"If you want to live long enough to take the Archon's head, you need to understand what is burning beneath your skin."
Cassian slowed his steps, his thumb unconsciously brushing the outline of the mark .
"You said I couldn't use it. You said I barely knew the basics."
"Because you don't. You're trying to play an instrument when you don't even know what notes sound like. But there are places in the west, hidden pockets untouched by the Archon's reach. Where the ancient groundwork still lingers. Where someone can teach you how to draw power without burning yourself to ash."
Cassian narrowed his eyes, looking down the empty, fog-draped road. "Where?"
"Keep walking west," Materdea instructed softly. "Past Garrett's little 'X'. Beyond the ridge lies the ruins of Oakhaven. There's a shrine there. Not to Korvus, but to the old ways. That is where we're going."
"You say that like these people of the don't worship korvus," Cassian pointed out
"And what makes you think I'm going to let you steer me into some abandoned ruin on a whim?"
"Because, dear boy," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction, "I am the only reason you're still breathing. And unless you want your next encounter with a guard to end with a sword through your ribs, you'll do exactly as I say."
Cassian stared at the horizon, a weary sigh escaping his lips. He adjusted the heavy bag on his shoulder and kept moving.
"Fine," he muttered under his breath. "Oakhaven it is. Just don't expect me to thank you."
"I'd be deeply disappointed if you did."