Talia spotted Dav the moment he stepped out of the tunnel—soaked, irritated, and radiating a don't-even-start-with-me exhausted expression she recognised too well. Before he could vanish into the milling workers, she walked straight toward him and caught his sleeve.
"We need to talk."
Dav didn't argue, which was already enough to tighten the knot in her stomach. He jerked his chin toward a shaded patch beside the storage alcoves. They sat. Talia waited.
A minute later Collie appeared, sliding in front of them like a ghost who'd simply stepped out of the stone. Her expression was tight. Controlled. But her eyes told the truth: She'd been holding back a storm of her own.
"He's getting frustrated," Collie began without preamble.
Talia tensed. Collie rarely sounded rattled.
She continued, voice low. "During the storm he tried to provoke the boys again. And a few others. Said the 'leaders' were hiding things, that the Clan was caging everyone for their own benefit. He even told one of them to attack the Keystone."
Talia inhaled sharply but didn't speak. If she spoke too soon, her temper might get ahead of her.
"When they didn't take the bait," Collie said, "he backed off and waited. Then someone asked him to cover a shift in resource storage—a legitimate request. That's when he stole the beast shards. Straight into his space ring. Clean. Fast. He knew exactly what he wanted."
Talia tapped her thigh—slow, rhythmic. "And since then?"
"He calmed down after that. Realised he'd jumped too fast when he felt the atmosphere shift. Most of the Clan's eyes were turning toward you, Dav, and Theo again—he didn't like that. He tried stirring up his hotblooded group one more time. They weren't having it."
Collie's mouth tightened. "So that's where we are."
Talia folded her legs under her and rested her chin on her palm, thinking. "What do you think he'll do next? What does he even want?"
Collie shook her head. "I don't think he wants power. Or resources. He's not clever enough for long-term strategy. He just wants chaos. Wants the Clan unstable, he thrives in cracks." Collie's eyes hardened. "If he feels cornered, he may run to whoever bought him. Someone trained him—his theft was too precise. If not… he'll lash out, and high-value targets are always the first choice."
Dav shifted closer to her, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'll stay by your side for a while, Tay."
Talia nodded once—appreciation, not fear.
"If he stole shards," she murmured, "he hid them somewhere." Her eyes narrowed. "Remind me—are space pockets bound to the owner?"
She unclipped one of her earrings and placed it in Dav's hand. "Try to open it."
He did. The contents inside shifted as easily as if it were his own.
Talia handed the second earring to Collie. Same result.
"As I suspected," she said. "Nothing is bound. Anyone can access them."
Collie's brows lifted, understanding crashing into place. "His ring. The gold one he always wears. That's his pocket."
"Perfect." Talia exhaled slowly. "Do you have enough evidence for exile?"
"I do," Collie said. "Three unrelated witnesses saw the theft. I grabbed them fast—didn't want him slipping away."
Talia's voice came out level. Calm. Too calm. "Exile isn't punishment. It's a permanent separation. He ended his place here the moment he endangered the Clan. I'll bring him to trial tomorrow, once he's exiled, retrieve his ring. After that, the forest decides what happens to him."
Collie nodded and dissolved quietly back into the shadows.
For a long heartbeat, Talia didn't move. The mountain felt heavier. The valley colder. But the clarity in her chest—the hard, necessary clarity—held her steady.
Dav and Talia found Theo near the drafting area, hovering over a stack of updated rosters while snapping at three different runners. The moment he saw their faces, he sent the runners away with a flick of his hand.
"Tell me."
They did. Theo's expression went stone-still. It was the look he wore when numbers failed, when logic turned into something sharper—like a blade turned edge-on.
"When's the trial?" he asked.
"Tomorrow morning," Talia said.
"We'll need Cael," Theo replied. "His department has to formalise proceedings."
Dav sent a runner. Cael arrived within minutes, hair still damp, shirt halfway tucked into his trousers. He didn't waste time with greetings.
"What happened?"
They explained again. Cael listened without interruption, posture straightening with every detail. By the time they finished, his entire demeanour had shifted—guard-commander to justice-officer.
"My department," Cael said slowly, "will handle arrest, containment, and—after exile—monitoring to make sure he doesn't double back." Then his voice dropped. "And we need a full structure. Protocols. Authority limits. Boundaries between justice and leadership. If we don't lay that now, someone will abuse it later. Maybe not us. But someone."
Talia nodded. This was why she'd wanted Cael in the role.
She unclipped another earring and handed it to Theo. "Transfer most of the shards into this one. Keep only what we need out. That way we can track movement easily."
Theo obliged immediately, fingers flicking through invisible panels.
"Dav," she added, "anyone else in your team figure out how to split space pockets like mine?"
Dav tilted his head. "Not sure, but if anyone can replicate it, it's Ben. I'll tell him to investigate."
The three of them stood there a moment—leaders not by intention, but by necessity. Outside, the sun struggled to break through thinning clouds.
"Right," Talia said finally. "Break. Then meet back tonight to finalise the trial process."
They dispersed.
Dav followed her like a silent shadow.
Talia tried to lose herself in the usual rhythm of shaping stone, but her mind was too sharp today, too restless. She abandoned the idea of going underground.
Instead, she stepped outside.
The southern forest edge glistened with receding rain. Mist curled around the tall trunks. The smell of damp bark and wild greenery wrapped around her like something familiar—something gentler than humans, something honest.
"I'm running," she told Dav.
"No," Dav said.
She started running anyway.
And Dav followed.
It should have been a simple jog around the meadow perimeter. Instead, Dav turned it into a brutal training session—footwork drills, sprint intervals, evasive manoeuvres. Where she wanted to clear her head, he wanted to sharpen hers. Where she wanted solitude, he offered discipline.
"Again," he ordered.
"No."
"Again."
"No, Dav, I'm—"
"Again."
She did it again.
By the time he stopped, her legs were jelly and her lungs burned. Dav threw her a waterskin and she caught it only because the gods of reflex were merciful today.
"I hate you," she gasped.
"You're welcome," he said.
When he finally released her, she veered toward the treeline—slowly, this time. She stepped beneath the canopy and let her body settle.
The forest was alive.
Leaves dripping with leftover rain. Faint tremors of distant creatures. Birds shaking moisture from their wings. A young shrub still smoking lightly from where lightning had glanced across its crown. Wild energy threaded through everything, but so did calm—a deep, steady resilience Earth never had.
Her chest loosened.
She walked for a long time, brushing her fingers along bark, watching the small things: an insect sliding water off its back, luminescent spores drifting from a cracked mushroom, moss glowing faintly in a shaded hollow. This world was unforgiving, yes—but it was beautiful. Alive. Constantly testing itself, and those within it.
The citadel was her creation.
But the forest… the forest felt like home.
Dav waited just within sight, giving her distance without ever losing track of her. She didn't speak. He didn't push. The silence between them felt like a truce with the world.
Eventually, the last threads of daylight began to fade, turning the forest edge blue.
"Time," Dav said softly.
Talia nodded and followed him back toward Deepway.
Tomorrow would bring their first official Council—and their first judgement.
Tonight, she let herself relax.