Chapter 22. The Edge of Old Worlds

The road twisted like a ribbon drawn tight between the sea and the forest. Behind them, the sky bled out its last golden hues, and far in the distance, the silver glint of water flickered and vanished beneath the rise of darkening trees.

Mira sat in silence. Her fingers, pale and still, rested against the cold glass of the window, trailing an invisible line over the reflection as the outline of Martha’s little shop slipped away in the side mirror—shrinking, softening, then gone. A hollow ache spread through her chest, dull and bruising, as if something essential had been carved out of her and left behind.

Kaelen glanced sideways. He didn’t speak at first. He didn’t have to. The tension in her frame, the way she clutched the cardigan around her like it might shield her from the world—he saw all of it.

“We’ll come back,” he said eventually, his voice low, steady.

Mira’s laugh was quiet and joyless. “You can’t promise that.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t