"Yet," Vaelira murmured, tracing a fingertip from the river curve to a cluster of triangles etched as mountains, "we've learned 'impossible' is just a lull before the next catastrophe."
Draven lifted the lead-sealed vial, tilting it so the seed inside thunked gently against metal. "Two days ago everyone believed heartwood couldn't be poisoned into birthing a soul-eater, yet here we stand in the ashes of corrected assumptions." He set the vial down with a click that made more than one officer flinch. "Orvath's west. That much is clear."
"Then you agree with me," he added, steely amusement threading the remark.
Vaelira bristled, but kept her tone measured. "I didn't say that. I said you can't go alone. West is a maze of canyons. Supplies thin fast; morale even faster."
Draven lifted a brow, a single punctuation mark of dry humor. "I won't be alone."
